"Kevin," I moan as softly as a breath.
On the other side of the wall, something thuds—like someone's fist hitting a cushion or a wall.
But I'm too far gone to care.
The orgasm rolls through me in waves, sharp and sweet and overwhelming. I bite down on my other hand to muffle the sound, my whole body trembling with the force of it.
For a long moment, I lay there, breathless and shaking, staring at the ceiling.
Then reality crashes back in.
Oh God.
I just got myself off thinking about Kevin. While he was ten feet away. Possibly awake. Possibly listening.
Mortification floods through me, hot and sharp.
Did he hear me? Does he know?
What if he walks in here tomorrow morning and looks at me with that calm, steady gaze and I have to pretend I didn't just say his name while—
I press my hands over my face and groan.
This is a disaster.
This whole situation is a disaster.
Because I'm not supposed to feel this way. I'm supposed to be healing, rebuilding, and learning how to trust again. Everything should be slow, where I keep my distance and protect myself.
I'm not supposed to be falling for the man sleeping on my couch.
But I am.
I'm falling for Kevin Dawes—his patience, his steadiness, the way he looks at me like I'm worth waiting for.
I roll onto my side, pulling the blanket up to my chin, and stare at the wall.
On the other side, everything is silent.
But I know—somehow, I just know—Kevin is awake, lying on that couch, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the same thing I am.
The space between us. The thin walls. The way everything between us feels like it's teetering on the edge of something I don't have a name for.
Something that terrifies me more than Elliott ever could.
Because Elliott can hurt my body. He can scare me, threaten me, make me feel small and helpless.
But Kevin?
Kevin can break my heart.
And that's so much worse.
I close my eyes and force myself to breathe.
It's just attraction; I lie to myself. Proximity and gratitude and the illusion of safety. It's not real.
It’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
