And God, does he look hot tonight.
Maybe it’s because I’m actually looking at him properly for the first time in ages, but damn. The way his shirt fits just right across his chest. The way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. The way he leans in when I speak like I’m the only person in the world he wants to listen to.
I feel that pull.
That electric, heart-racing, stomach-flipping pang of desire I haven’t felt in so long.
And for the first time in ages, I actually want him.
Not in an obligated “we haven’t done it in a while” kind of way.
In a deep, aching way. In a way that makes me squeeze my legs together just to give myself some friction.
We walk home side by side through Oakwood, the town unusually quiet now that the day has finally exhaled.
Oakwood at night feels like a different place. Shop windows dark. Streets bathed in soft pools of amber light. The faint hum of distant traffic the only reminder the world is still moving somewhere beyond us.
Our footsteps echo gently on the pavement, unhurried, in sync.
There’s tension between us.
Thick. Tangible.
It lingers in the air, in the way neither of us is speaking, in the way our arms brush now and then as we walk.
It isn’t awkward. It’s charged.
Dan reaches for my hand, his fingers curling around mine without hesitation.
His palm is warm, solid, and when he laces his fingers through mine, I feel it everywhere. His hand is big, wrapped around mine, making me feel small in the best possible way. Safe.
I glance up at him and he takes my breath away.
The moonlight picks out the strong line of his jaw, the familiar slope of his nose. He looks… good. Really good. His shoulders seem broader somehow in the dim light, his presence filling the space beside me effortlessly.
At six foot three, with that solid, muscular frame, he’s always been imposing in a quiet way.
Not intimidating. Protective. Steady.
The kind of man you feel secure walking beside in the dark.
The kind of man you want to press yourself against.
His thumb brushes over the back of my hand, slow and deliberate, and my skin prickles in response. Such a small gesture, yet it sends a ripple through me, igniting something I’d almost forgotten how to feel.
The town is so still it feels like we’re the only two people in it.
No cars pass. No voices drift from open windows.
Just us, the cool night air, and the low murmur of our breathing.
I realise my body is leaning toward his without consciously choosing to.
Drawn in by his warmth. By the way he walks so close our hips nearly brush. Every step feels deliberate. Loaded with anticipation. I feel wanted. I feel seen.
And as his hand tightens around mine, I know he feels it too.
Oakwood sleeps around us, unaware, while something between us stirs back to life.
