Fuck me.
I pushed off the shelf, every muscle taut with restraint. I wanted to drag her against me. To bury my face in her neck and inhale the peace I’d stolen for her. But instead, I walked. Controlled. Calm. Masked.
Barely.
“I found something,” she said, holding a book like it was a secret.
“What is it?” My voice was low. Always low around her. I didn’t trust what it might become if I let it rise.
She turned the book toward me, eyes bright. “This edition is perfect. I’ve been trying to find it for months.”
And the way she held it—the way she lit up—felt like a thread had snapped loose in my chest.
I wanted to give her everything.
Her gaze flicked back to mine, something wicked behind it.
“I can’t believe you’re actually letting me enjoy something,” she teased.
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t.
Because she had no idea.
No idea how much of myself I’d strip away just to give her a single soft moment. No idea how long I’d searched for that edition. How I’d waited to see if her smile would be mine.
Her laughter was light, free, and it wrapped around my throat like a silk noose.
And I realized then…
I didn’t just want her happy.
I wanted to be the only reason she ever smiled like this again.
She moved through the aisles like temptation in motion—fingertips brushing spines, green eyes scanning titles like they might be safer than looking at me.
But I could feel it.
The tension between us curled like smoke, thick and quiet, winding around my throat with every step we took.
The bookstore had gone still. Not silent—still. Like the universe was holding its breath.
I reached up for a book on the highest shelf, stretching just enough to feel her warmth behind me—close, steady, intentional. When I turned, I nearly collided with her.
We were too close.
Perfectly close.
Her breath mingled with mine, sweet and sharp, and her eyes locked on me like she was dissecting me—pulling me apart word by word, page by page.
“You really remembered,” she whispered, like it hurt to admit it.
I didn't have to ask to know what she meant.
The first edition.
That conversation.
My heart twisted.
