I take a step in.The carpet swallows the sound.Another step, and the heat from the lamp brushes my shoulder.
“You nervous?”he asks.
I should say no.I should smirk, make a joke, something to keep the ground level.But the truth slips out anyway.
“Yeah.”
His mouth curves, and it’s not a smile exactly, but something that makes the room feel smaller.
“Good,” he says.“Means you’re paying attention.”
He closes the space.Not fast, more like intent, like he knows I won’t move back, or maybe it doesn’t matter if I do.He stops close enough for me to feel the heat off his skin, close enough that one breath from him caresses my cheek.
I laugh sharply, trying to cover the way my pulse spikes.“You always this sure of yourself?”
“No,” he says simply.“Just this sure of you.”
That makes my dick jump in my jeans.I swallow, because my throat’s suddenly dry, and I can’t tell if I want him to kiss me or make me wait until it’s unbearable.He’s taller than me by a breath, and when he leans in—not touching, just tipping into my space—it’s like the room shrinks around us.
“What if I don’t do this?”I say.
“Then you walk out,” he replies, eyes steady.“The key stays on the table.The door locks behind you.No questions asked.”
“And if I stay?”
His mouth curves, more a promise than a smile.“Then I get to find out if you’re as reckless as you looked back there.”
The tension stretches, thin as wire and ready to snap.I feel the heat of his body just shy of mine, a current pulling me forward, and I don’t know if I’m breathing or just leaning on instinct.
His thumb lingers on my wrist, like he’s memorizing the beat, then drifts higher.Not much, just an inch, but it feels like a mile.My skin prickles where he hasn’t even touched yet.
“You gonna let me in?”he asks, tone quiet but not uncertain.He’s not talking about the room.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”The words slip out sharper than I mean, defense tangled with desire.
He smiles as if I just proved a point for him.“Yeah,” he says softly, and steps closer.Now there’s barely air between us, the heat of him like static under my skin.
The back of his fingers graze up my forearm, past the bend of my elbow.It’s maddening.So careful, so slow, like he’s giving me every chance to stop him, but I don’t.
“Most people,” he murmurs, eyes locked on mine, “would’ve pulled away by now.”
“Most people,” I say, pulse loud in my ears, “don’t get to touch me.”
That makes him laugh, low and pleased.“Good thing I’m not most people.”
His hand finally lands on my shoulder, firmly, without hesitation.That first real weight of his touch makes my breath catch.Then his other hand comes up, brushing my jaw, tilting my face a fraction—not forcing, just guiding.Testing.
My heart’s in my throat, but I don’t move back.His thumb rests just under my mouth, like he’s marking where he’s headed.
“Tell me to stop,” he says, but it doesn’t sound like he wants me to.
I don’t.I should say something, anything, but my throat won’t work.He’s close enough that I catch the warmth of his breath, and something sharp and sweet beneath it.My pulse feels like it’s going to beat its way out of my neck.
“Still not stopping me,” he murmurs.
“Was I supposed to?”My voice is thin, too high, as if it belongs to someone else.
His mouth curves, and then it’s no longer a question.His lips brush mine, not even a real kiss yet, just a test spark.But it’s enough to light the whole damn fuse.
