I don’t argue.
She shifts closer, her shoulder pressing into my arm. I wrap my arm around her without thinking, pulling her into my side. She fits there like she’s always known the shape of me.
Her head tips back against my shoulder. “You know what I thought when I first saw you?”
“Something unflattering, I’m sure.”
“That you looked like a man who’d stopped expecting good things.”
I tighten my arm. “And now?”
“Now I think you’re a man who forgot he’s allowed to want them.”
The room feels smaller. Or maybe it’s just the way she looks at me, like she’s daring me to believe her.
I lift my hand, hesitate a beat, then tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. My knuckles brush her cheek. She inhales sharply.
“Firefly,” I murmur.
“Yes.”
“If I kiss you,” I say, voice rough, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”
She turns her face toward mine, lips inches away. “Then don’t.”
The word hangs there, tempting and terrifying.
I shake my head once. “Not yet.”
Her brows knit. “Why?”
“Because I want this to mean something,” I say. “And because if I cross that line tonight, I’ll want everything. And I need to know you won’t wake up tomorrow wishing you hadn’t.”
She studies me, really studies me, like she’s deciding whether to call my bluff or thank me for it.
Then she surprises me by leaning in and pressing her forehead to mine.
“I won’t,” she whispers.
My breath stutters. “You can’t promise that.”
“No,” she agrees. “But I can promise I’m not running.”
That’s enough. More than enough.
I pull her fully into my arms, and she goes willingly, folding into me, legs tangling with mine, her cheek against my chest. My heart is loud in my ears, a steady, relentless thing that refuses to be ignored.
We sit there like that, breathing each other in, the world narrowed to warmth and weight and the sound of her sighing when my thumb traces slow circles on her back.
“You know,” she says after a while, voice muffled, “for a grumpy hermit, you’re surprisingly gentle.”
I smirk into her hair. “Careful. I’ve got a reputation.”
“Uh-huh.”
I feel her smile against my shirt. Feel the way she relaxes, how her body trusts mine without question. It’s humbling. Terrifying. Everything.
We shift eventually, gravity and discomfort forcing us up onto the couch. It’s just as awful as before, springs poking in all the wrong places, but she curls into me anyway, knees tucked up, head on my shoulder.
