The two words slip out,
but they’re everything.
A confession. A fuse.
A whole damn earthquake.
His gaze hits me full force.
He knows exactly what I mean.
One of those rare moments where everything just clicks—an effortless rush.
A heated, knowing smile breaks across his face. He hides it behind his hand. And as if his hand is not enough, he turns his face to the window, to the street.
One second. Two.
Then his eyes are back on me, surrendering.
AnI'm-fuckedlaugh slips out of him?—
quiet and a little broken.
“Shit, Sonny…
“You’re gonna break my fuckin’ heart.”
He says it with a grin,
but the rest of him isn't laughing.
His hand is still open under mine,
and my fingers keep tracing it?—
the lines, the shape?—
adoring every imperfection.
I don’t know why I’m doing it,
but I don’t want to stop.
It’s too easy?—
touching him,
breathing beside him,
forgetting about everything outside of this.
When the cab slows, I glance out the window.
The Astor Clockhouse.
A hotel.
Wait.No.
