She shook her head, a nervous laugh catching. Resistance still surged through her, all her defenses flaring at once. “You don’t know me.”
Darren reached for her face, the way he had during their first meeting. NoTwilightglitter this time. He brushed away a strand of hair, carefully tucking it behind her ear.
“I know the words you chose. I know how you write about fear and want and the ache of not belonging. I know Lucen and Catlyn and the way you wrote her like she’s trying so hard not to need anything from anyone.”
His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth before lifting again.
“I think I know enough.”
Silence fell between them, charged and inevitable. And finally, that running commentary in her head—every shield she’d put up, every self-deprecating reflex—fell away. Worn down, taken apart by him piece by piece, until nothing remained.
It should have been terrifying, but it wasn’t.
It felt like being free.
She didn’t think. Didn’t plan.
She just reached for him.
Her fingers brushed the collar of his suit, tentative, testing the shape of the moment. She looked up, wide-eyed, searching his face.
Darren answered without words. Something fierce and fragile burned behind his eyes as his hand rose to her cheek, steadying her, drawing her in, and—
His mouth found hers.
Not a performance. Not perfect or hungry or rehearsed.
Just real. Careful. As if neither of them dared risk breaking whatever delicate, impossible thing was forming between them.
Emma clutched at his suit, pulling him in tighter. His mouth was warm and sure against hers, his scent edged with salt from the sprint. She deepened the kiss, pressing closer, and the small groan he made against her lips sent heat spiraling through her in a dizzy, molten rush.
When they finally broke apart, it wasn’t dramatic.
Just...still. Their breaths mingled in shallow, uneven bursts, the world narrowing to the inches between them.
She rested her forehead against his. His thumb still traced her cheekbone.
“This is crazy,” Emma breathed. “We’ve barely known each other for two days.”
Darren pulled back, just enough to meet her eyes. His voice came soft, unguarded.
“Do you really think a connection like this is measured in hours and minutes?”
She let out a small, helpless sound, too weak to be a laugh. “That’s a good line, Cole. I’m stealing that one.”
He didn’t smile. Didn’t let her retreat to hiding behind jokes that easily.
“I knew you long before we met, Emma. Just as you did with me. I knew you through your words, your stories, your characters.”
She shifted against the wall, avoiding his gaze. “It’s just a book.”
His fingers found her chin, tilting her face until their eyes met again. Emma’s heart fluttered against her ribs as if it were trying to escape. But there was no escaping this. Not anymore.
“You say that,” he said. “But look at all the things you wrote into existence. The people out there brought together by their love for your characters. Fans waiting hours in line just to get your name in ink on a page. This right here. Us meeting. You did all that. That’s not just a book, Emma. That’s you shaking the earth a little.”
Her throat burned, words failing her. Instead, she gave him a faint smile, threaded with something that almost felt like sadness.
Darren ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing it over her shoulder, his hand lingering a beat too long. “We should get back. Leah will have an APB out on me if I don’t return you soon.”
