“Safe from what?” he whispers.
“From me.” The words fall before I can stop them. “From wanting something I don’t have the right to want.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then his hand lifts again, slower this time, brushed with hesitation. But he doesn’t stop.
His fingers find my jaw, light and warm. Not claiming. Just holding. His thumb strokes along the curve of my cheek, and I nearly fall apart beneath it. My entire body stills. My lungs forget how to breathe. My skin burns under his touch, but I lean into it anyway.
I can’t pull away.
“You have every right,” he says softly. Almost like it pains him to admit. “Even if neither of us knows what to call it.”
His hand lingers, and I tilt my head just enough to brush my lips, not into a kiss, not quite, but close enough that I can feel the shape of his breath. The temptation is unbearable. The hunger sharp. If I close the space, if I give in, there’s no going back.
But gods, I’m so fucking tired of pretending I don’t want him.
His touch stays where it is, fingers warm against my jaw, thumb tracing the faintest arc along my cheekbone like he’s learning the shape of me by heart. The contact is gentle, reverent even, and somehow that makes it worse. My body betrays me completely, pulse hammering loud and fast, skin too tight, breath shallow. I don’t know when I started shaking, only that I can’t stop.
He isn’t pressing. He isn’t asking for more. He’s justthere, close enough that I can feel the heat of him bleeding into the cold night air, close enough that every inhale carries the scent of him. His patience is unbearable. Theo has always been like this, letting me decide how close is too close, even when it’s obvious I’m already past it.
My thoughts scatter, ricocheting between fear and want, between everything we’re not allowed to be and everything my body is screaming for anyway. This shouldn’t be happening. Not here. Not between us. I’ve spent weeks pulling away,forcing distance where none wants to exist, convincing myself that restraint is the same thing as safety.
But being this close to him, with his hand still holding my face like it belongs there, I realize how fragile that lie has always been.
His breath ghosts across my mouth when he exhales, and my chest tightens painfully. I can feel the shape of his body now, the rise of his sternum, the subtle shift of his weight, the way he angles toward me without touching, like he’s waiting for permission he’ll never ask for. The space between us is so thin it hums, charged and alive, thick with everything we haven’t said.
Something inside me finally gives way.
I move before I can stop myself, closing the distance in one reckless motion, my hand fisting in the fabric of his shirt as I pull him into me. My mouth finds his with no finesse, no careful testing, just months of want crashing down at once. The kiss isn’t soft. It isn’t exploratory. It’s raw and hungry and unrestrained, like I’ve been starving and he’s the only thing that can keep me alive.
Theo inhales sharply against my lips, surprise flickering through him for half a heartbeat before he melts into it. His mouth opens beneath mine, warm and yielding, and the sound he makes, low and breathless, shoots straight through me. His fingers tighten in my hair, not pulling me away, not pushing me closer, just anchoring me there as if he’s afraid I might disappear.
I don’t stop. I can’t.
I kiss him deeper, harder, pouring everything I’ve been holding back into the press of my mouth against his. The world narrows to sensation, the slide of his lips, the heat of his breath, the way his body responds to mine like it’s been waiting for this too. When his tongue brushes mine, slow and deliberate, my restraint shatters completely.
I break the kiss only to drag in a breath, foreheads touching, my pulse roaring in my ears. My hands come up to brace against the stone behind him, boxing him in without touching, my body close enough that he can feel every tremor running through me.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” I murmur, the words rough, almost a confession.
His answer is a soft sound against my mouth, felt more than heard. His hands slide down from my hair to my sides, palms warm and steady, grounding me even as my thoughts spiral. He isn’t afraid. He isn’t pulling back. He’s here, meeting me exactly where I am, and that realization is what finally undoes me.
I lean in again, slower this time, letting the kiss linger, letting the heat build instead of explode. Our mouths move together with aching precision, every brush of lips deliberate, every breath shared. His body presses closer, chest to chest now, and I feel the unmistakable response there, hard proof that this isn’t one-sided, that I’m not alone in this dangerous want.
The realization sends a sharp thrill through me.
My mouth trails from his lips to the line of his jaw, then down the sensitive skin of his neck, tasting him, breathing him in. He tilts his head back instinctively, exposing more, his breath stuttering as my lips find the pulse beating there. I linger, not biting, not rushing, just claiming the moment, knowing it might be all we’re allowed.
When I lift my head again, we’re both breathing hard, bodies flushed, the night around us utterly silent.
And I know, without a shred of doubt, that there’s no going back from this.
His breath is unsteady now, matching mine, soft exhalations falling against my lips like heat. I’ve never been this close to him, never like this, and every second of it isunraveling me. The air around us doesn’t feel cold anymore. Clinging to my skin as Theo shifts subtly, tilting his face up like he’s searching for more. And gods, I want to give it to him.
His hands slide up my sides beneath my shirt, fingers trailing over bare skin, and the contact makes my entire body jerk.
Then his hand shifts lower.
