It just hovers there. Hesitation made visible.
Then his fingers skim along my jaw.
Soft.
Careful.
Like he’s not sure I’ll let him.
Calluses catch on my skin in a way that makes goosebumps race down my neck. His palm cups my cheek fully, thumb resting near the corner of my mouth.
I lean into it. I don’t mean to. I just… do.
Hot terror and hunger flash through his eyes.
“This is a mistake.”
“Probably,” I whisper.
“You’re my employee,” he reminds me, thumb brushing just barely over my skin.
“Yeah.” My voice shakes. “I am.”
“There’s an age gap.”
“Noticed,” I murmur.
“You live in my house. You’re…” He swallows. “You matter to my kid.”
He’s naming every reason this is a bad idea like he’s listing fence posts that need mending.
“We shouldn’t.”
I nod. “I know.”
He leans in anyway.
Slow. Excruciatingly slow.
I have time to step back. To turn away. To slam a lid over whatever this is and pretend I never felt it.
I don’t.
His forehead comes to rest against mine, our breaths mingling, his thumb tracing the faintest line near the corner of my mouth. My lips part on a soft, helpless exhale.
That’s what breaks him.
His gaze drops to my mouth, darkens, and then he closes the last inch.
His lips meet mine.
It’s not the messy, half-drunk, distraction kisses I’ve had in bathrooms and back alleys. It’s not Marcus’s hungry, performative,you’re lucky I picked youmouth.
It’s… careful.
Gentle turns greedy in a heartbeat.
He exhales against my mouth like he’s been holding his breath for weeks. His hand slides from my cheek to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair. He doesn’t yank, doesn’t force. He anchors, pulling me closer, steadying both of us.
