A chest. Broad and hard against my shoulder blades.
An arm wrapped around my waist from behind, holding me upright.
And then—nothing. My brain simply stopped.
The man's body was a wall of muscle against my back. I could feel his heartbeat, slow and steady, while my own pulse went haywire. His arm pressed against my stomach, fingers splayed wide, and the heat of his hand burned through my jacket like a brand.
I could smell him. Not cologne—I'd been surrounded by men in expensive cologne my entire life, and this was nothing like that. Just clean soap. A trace of sweat. Something underneath that was purely, unmistakably male.
My body reacted before my mind could catch up. Heat flooded through me. My skin prickled everywhere we touched. I wanted—God, I wanted to lean back into him, to feel more of that solid warmth, to turn around and—
"Watch your step."
The voice was low, rough at the edges. Close to my ear. So close I felt his breath against my skin.
I turned my head without thinking.
Too close. We were too close. His face was inches from mine—hard angles, sharp jaw, gray eyes that resembled storm clouds. The kind of face that gave nothing away.
For a moment, we just stared at each other.
I forgot how to breathe. Forgot where I was, who I was, what I was supposed to be doing. All I could see were those pale, piercing eyes, watching me with an intensity that made my stomach drop.
Then he released me.
His arm withdrew from my waist. He stepped back, creating a professional distance between us, his expression smoothing into something neutral and controlled.
"You alright?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice. I managed to say "Thank you" in a tone that almost sounded normal.
He gave a single nod, then turned and walked away. Unhurried. Efficient. Just a security guard who'd done his job and moved on.
I stood frozen, staring after him.
My arm still tingled where he'd gripped it. My back still burned where it had pressed against his chest. My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat.
It's just adrenaline. You almost fell. That's all.
But I knew, even then, that I was lying to myself.
"Tobias!" Elizabeth appeared at my side, her face creased with concern. "Are you okay? You have to be more careful!"
"I'm fine. Just clumsy."
My mother arrived seconds later, frowning. "Honestly, Tobias. Pay attention to where you're walking."
"Yes, Mother."
I let them fuss over me. Let the wedding planner steer us toward the terrace for champagne. Smiled and nodded, performing my role with the mechanical precision of years of practice.
But the rest of the day, I scanned every room for gray eyes and broad shoulders.
I didn't find him again. He'd vanished into the background, just another staff member in a dark suit, invisible to guests who didn't know to look.
But I knew to look. I couldn't stop looking.
That night, I dreamed about him—his hands on my body, his weight pressing me down, his mouth on my skin. I woke up hard and aching, absolutely certain of something I'd spent a decade trying to deny.
