“It fixes him breathing.”
Her lips part slightly. My eyes drop to them before I can stop myself.
Three years.
Three years of imagining this moment. Of remembering the taste of her mouth and the way her body goes soft when I get close, the way she fights and melts in the same breath.
I lean in slowly.
Close enough that I feel her breath on my skin.
Her hand comes up to my chest, fingers curling into my shirt. For one reckless second I think she’s pulling me closer.
Instead she pushes.
Not hard.
Just enough.
“You can’t say you love me,” she whispers, voice shaking, “and then crawl into bed with her.”
The words stop me cold.
“I didn’t crawl into bed with her tonight,” I say.
“But you do,” she shoots back.
The truth sits there between us, heavy and complicated.
“She’s part of the deal,” I admit.
“I’m not.”
I lean closer anyway, stubborn and tired of pretending distance solves anything.
“You were never part of a deal,” I murmur. “You were the reason.”
Her breath trembles against my lips.
“I won’t be your secret,” she whispers.
I’m tired of everything staying the same.
I close the distance and take her lips.
A knock slams against the door.
I step back like I’ve been shot.
The door opens before I can respond.
Carmen stands in the doorway.
She doesn’t look angry.
She looks composed.
Calculated.
