I smile, heart twisting. “I think I could sleep right here.”
“But it’s late,” I add, brushing a finger along the line of his jaw. “And you have practice in the morning.”
“I know,” he says, low enough it barely counts as sound. His fingers graze my jaw, then trail down the curve of my neck. Every place he touches seems to awaken beneath his hand.
He leans in and kisses me, a gentle press that steals my breath.
The sound of the engine fades, replaced by the pulse in my ears, the dizzy rhythm of him and me and nothing else.
When he pulls back enough to rest his forehead against mine, his voice is barely a whisper.
“Please tell me I’ll get to do this again, lass. Please tell me my new reality includes you.”
For a second, I can’t breathe. I search his eyes, wondering how we got here—how something that started as tension and teasing has turned into this impossible tenderness.
“I care about my job. Just like you care about your privacy. We can make it work, but we’ll have to plan. Seeing each other every day, with people and cameras around, it could get complicated fast.”
He sighs, the sound low and resigned, then nods. “We’ll make it work.”
I smile. “We will.”
I press a final kiss to his lips, quick and certain. “Now, I better go. My sister and Bri are waiting upstairs.”
He nods again but doesn’t move right away. Instead, he hauls me into one last hug—strong arms wrapping around me, his hands splayed across my back like he’s trying to memorize every inch.
Then he knocks lightly on the window, and Smith opens his door.
Rogue steps out, circles the car, and opens my door, offering his hand. He helps me out, fingers lingering around mine for a heartbeat too long.
Smith places my backpack and carry-on beside the entrance of my building.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell Rogue.
He nods, clearly fighting the same urge I am—to reach out again, to stay.
“Thank you, Smith,” I say, and he dips his head.
I sling my backpack over one shoulder, grab my carry-on, and walk toward the doors. I feel Rogue’s gaze on me the whole way, heavy and unspoken.
Every step away from him feels like defiance. Like trying to unlearn the warmth of his hands.
And even after I step inside, even as the door shuts behind me, I still feel it. The weight of him, the warmth, the quiet ache of knowing that leaving was the hardest thing I’ve done all night.
Chapter 27
Iwake up before my alarm.
For once, I’m not tired. I should be after a flight, a long night, and a heart that refused to slow down, but I feel light. The air itself is different.
I dreamed of him.
Of his hands on my skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek, the soft weight of his kiss. When I opened my eyes, I was already smiling.
Everything feels … sweet.
Like I’ve been dipped in sunshine and cotton candy and the world is softer around the edges, humming with possibility.
I throw the covers back, stretch, and pad barefoot down the hall, only to stop dead in the doorway.
