I hesitate, caught between instinct and caution. Between the version of myself who analyzes everything and the one who’s tired of pretending she doesn’t feel things deeply.
His hand brushes mine.
Just barely.
A question.
I glance at him again. He looks back this time, not smiling, not smirking—just watching me. Waiting.
That’s what makes the decision for me.
I slip my fingers into his.
He exhales softly, like he’s been holding his breath. His grip is warm and sure, not possessive—just there. Present.
We don’t comment on it. We don’t need to.
We walk hand in hand along the length of the river, the city lights reflecting on the water, and for the first time since meeting him, I don’t feel defensive or on edge.
I feel… calm.
When we drive back to my apartment parking lot, it feels too soon. The walk felt both endless and over in seconds. In the lobby, we take the elevator up to my floor, standing closer than necessary in the small space. The air between us is chargedbut different from before. Emotional rather than just physical. Deeper. More dangerous.
At my door, I turn to face him. The hallway is quiet, empty except for us. Declan stands close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
"Thank you for tonight," I say, my voice coming out breathy. "I enjoyed it"
"Thank you for giving me a chance."
His fingers reach up slowly and brush hair back from my face, tucking it gently behind my ear. His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing across my skin. His touch is so tender it makes my chest ache.
"Can I kiss you?"
The question is soft and respectful.
"Yes," I whisper.
He leans down slowly. When his lips meet mine, it's soft, tender. A question instead of a demand. His other hand comes up to frame my face, holding me like I'm something precious, and I melt into him.
As the kiss deepens gradually, I realize how different it is from the desperate encounter at the facility. My hands slide up his chest to rest against his shoulders, feeling the solid warmth of him through his sweater. He tastes like wine and something uniquely him. When his tongue traces my lower lip, I open for him with a small sound that makes him groan.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Declan rests his forehead against mine, his hands still cradling my face like he can't quite let go.
"I should go before I forget we're taking this slow," he murmurs, though he doesn't move.
"Probably a good idea."
Neither of us moves for a long moment. Then, with reluctance, Declan steps back. His hands slide away from my face, leaving cold spots where warmth had been.
"Goodnight, Ivy."
"Goodnight, Declan."
He walks backward toward the elevator, eyes never leaving mine until the doors close between us.
I let myself into my apartment and lean against the closed door, fingers touching my lips. They're swollen from kissing, tingling with sensation. My heart races. My entire body hums with something that feels like happiness mixed with terror.
Because tonight changed things. I didn’t just have a physical pull to Declan that made my heart race. No. It’s deeper, meaningful in ways that scare me.
