"I'm not worth keeping."
"Let me be the judge of that."
We stand there in my kitchen, her hand on my chest, mine covering it, the last light of day fading through the windows. I can feel her heartbeat against my palm. Fast. Matching my own.
"This is a mistake," I say.
"Probably."
"I'll hurt you. Or you'll hurt me. Or we'll both end up destroyed."
"Maybe." She steps closer still, eliminating the last distance between us. "But at least we'll have tried. At least we won't spend the rest of our lives wondering what if."
"You should run. While you still can."
"I'm done running." Her free hand comes up to cup my jaw, her thumb tracing the line of my cheekbone. "I've been runningmy whole life. From grief. From connection. From anything that might make me vulnerable. You make me want to stop."
Something breaks inside me. Some wall I've spent five years building, crumbling under the weight of her words and her touch and the look in her eyes.
"Vivian." Her name comes out rough. Desperate.
"Yes?"
"I'm going to kiss you now."
"Finally."
I close the distance between us, my mouth finding hers. She gasps against my lips and then she's kissing me back, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer. I cup the back of her head, angling her face to deepen the kiss, and she melts into me with a soft moan that goes straight to my gut.
My other hand finds her waist, pulling her flush against me. She fits perfectly, her curves molding to my body, warm and soft and alive. When she arches into me, I feel every inch of her through the thin fabric of her clothes.
"Deck." My name is a plea on her lips.
I walk her backward until she hits the counter, lifting her onto it without breaking the kiss. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me between her thighs, and the contact drags a groan from somewhere deep in my chest.
"I've wanted this since you walked through my door." I kiss along her jaw, her throat, the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder. "Since you argued with me in my own living room and refused to back down."
"I've wanted this since you put your hands on me during training." Her head falls back, giving me access to more skin. "Every session. Every touch. I thought I would lose my mind."
I capture her mouth again, slower this time. Deeper. Learning the shape of her lips, the taste of her tongue, the sounds she makes when I do something she particularly likes.
Her hands slide under my shirt, palms flat against my abs. I hiss at the contact. Her fingers trace the ridges of old scars, mapping the history written on my skin.
"So many." Her voice catches. "You've been hurt so many times."
"Old wounds. They don't matter."
"They matter to me." She presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. "Every scar matters to me."
My chest cracks open. Years of armor, crumbling. I rest my forehead against hers, breathing hard, trying to find my footing.
"This changes things." I frame her face with my hands. "There's no going back after this."
"I know."
"I can't promise you anything. Can't promise I won't fail you."
"I'm not asking for promises." She covers my hands with hers. "I'm asking for right now. For this moment. For whatever time we have."
