My chest tightens at her touch, the warmth of her palm sending a jolt through me. Her words make my heart feel like it’s going to launch out of my mouth and hand itself to her. I notice the way her breathing hitches, and the faint tremor in her fingers. We’re close—so close that I can see the subtle shift in her expression, the moment she decides something.
“West,” she whispers.
“Yeah?” My voice comes out a little rough around the edges, like I’m bracing for something I’m not sure I’m ready for.
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she leans in, her lips finding mine in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s almost hesitant at first, as though she’s giving me an out if I want it. But I don’t. I leanforward, letting my hand slip up to cup her cheek, feeling the slight curve of her jaw beneath my thumb.
Her lips part against mine, the kiss deepening just enough to leave me dizzy. It’s not like the first kiss or what followed. This one is slow and deliberate and completely initiated by her. Completely her choice. My heart thuds in my chest, and the tension I’ve been holding onto melts away. All I can focus on is her—her scent, the quiet sound of her exhale, the way her free hand curls around my shirt.
When we finally break apart, her cheeks are flushed, and I’m pretty sure I’m breathing a little too fast. She keeps her forehead against mine, her lashes lowered as if she’s afraid to meet my eyes.
“I—” she starts, then stops, swallowing hard.
I brush my thumb gently over her cheek, waiting. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “Whatever it is, whatever you’re feeling… it’s okay.”
A tiny crease appears between her brows, and her lashes flutter against the soft skin under her eyes. I notice the way her pulse thrums at her throat, a subtle signal of her uncertainty and the emotions swirling beneath. She inhales, holding the air in her lungs like she’s gathering the courage to speak.
Please don’t regret the kiss. Please don’t say it was a mistake.
When her eyes lift, the nervousness in them settles into something warmer. Her lips tilt into a tentative smile, and she nods, exhaling a shaky breath. “I just… I’m really glad you’re here. That we’re… doing this. Talking.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding, relief mingling with the lingering warmth of her lips on mine. “Me too,” I murmur, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
Her expression shifts again, and I can’t help but notice how the glow from the bedside lamp highlights the faint freckles on her cheeks, the way her hair frames her face just so. There’s avulnerability in her eyes, but also a hint of resolve—like she’s decided she won’t run anymore.
My heart thuds hard in my chest as I lean in, brushing my nose against hers. This time, I don’t wait for permission. I kiss her again, deeper, letting every unspoken word and apology pour into that single act.
She responds without hesitation, her hands slipping around my waist. The shy uncertainty from before morphs into something more charged, more desperate, as her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt, tugging me closer.
A small noise escapes her throat, a quiet moan that sends a jolt of electricity down my spine. My hand shifts from her cheek to the back of her neck, threading through her hair, and she presses closer, the heat between us flaring.
Her touch roams across my shoulders, sliding down my chest, exploring as if she’s reacquainting herself with territory she thought she’d lost forever. I know the feeling, because I’m feeling it too. Every brush of her fingers sets my skin on fire in the best way, and I can’t help the low, rumbling sound that rises in my throat.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Her eyes are wide, lips parted, and I can see the same mix of desire and disbelief mirrored on her face that’s thrumming in my own veins. I want her. But I hold myself still; that’s not why I came here.
“That was…” she begins, her voice trembling just slightly, a faint waver betraying how overwhelmed she feels.
I press a gentle kiss to her forehead, letting my breath fan over her skin as I breathe in her scent. “Yeah,” I say, fully aware of exactly what she’s thinking. “But I’m sure as hell not complaining.”
A shaky laugh slips out of her as she leans back, just enough for me to catch the warmth in her eyes. Her perfume tugs at mysenses, wrapping around me like a soft, insistent pull, urging me to do more than kiss her. But I can’t. Not yet. Not like that first night.
I’m going to take it slow. Court her in the way she deserves—no rushing into something she might regret in the morning.
I wet my lips, forcing the words out. “I should go.”
She presses her lips together, her eyes darting between mine. For a split second, I swear she’s about to ask me to stay, and something in my chest aches with the hope of it. But then she nods, exhaling a breath that quivers just a little. “Yeah, it’s late… we have an early morning.”
A small smile tugs at my lips because I want so badly to extend our time together, to stay with her until sunrise if she’d let me. But I know myself—and I know her. If we keep going tonight, we’ll cross lines we aren’t prepared for.
So I stand, my knees protesting the loss of her warmth, and she does too, her hand drifting toward mine for just a moment before she pulls it back. She follows me to the door, both of us hovering in that electric silence that comes after admitting the kind of truth we just did with our kisses.
I pause, one hand on the doorknob, glancing back at her. The lamp light paints soft gold highlights in her hair, and the vulnerability in her gaze is enough to make me reconsider everything—sleep, boundaries, tomorrow.
Without thinking too hard, I brush my fingers over her cheek, the warmth of her skin an instant comfort. She leans into my touch, and I can’t help myself—I lean in for one more kiss, quick and delicate, a whispered promise that this isn’t goodbye, justgoodnight.
When we pull apart, she offers me a small, shaky smile, and I let my hand slip away from her face. “Get some rest,” I murmur, my voice almost cracking on the words.
“You too,” she whispers.
