She blinked and turned toward me. “Yeah?”
“Helping people matters.”
Something shifted in her expression, emotion flickering there before she seemed to decide to hide it. “I’ve never really fit anywhere. It always feels like I missed the instructions everyone else got.”
The words landed hard.
You’d fit with me.
The thought came fast and uninvited, terrifying in its certainty.
“Kai?” She studied my face. “You went somewhere again.”
“I’m here.”
“Where do you go when you do that?”
I should’ve deflected. Changed the subject. Done what I always did.
“Nowhere good,” I said.
She reached for my hand—not demanding, not tentative. Just there. Warm. Present. Despite myself, I felt the walls I’d built around my heart start to crumble.
I turned my hand over and laced our fingers together. She inhaled softly but stayed.
“Emory,” I said. “I should stay away from you.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll hurt you.”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “Shouldn’t I get to decide whether that bothers me enough to stay away?”
“You should run,” I said quietly. “That would be smart.”
She smiled faintly. “I’ve never been very smart.”
And then she kissed me.
Soft. Questioning. Barely there.
When she started to pull back, uncertainty flickering across her face, something inside me snapped. I kissed her fully, weeks of restraint breaking loose in one breathless moment. She melted into me, fingers gripping my shoulders as if anchoring herself.
“Kai,” she whispered. “I need to tell you something.”
“Later.”
She pulled back, breathless. “No. Now.” She swallowed. “I’ve never done this before.”
I froze.
“I’ve never been with anyone,” she said. “I’m a virgin.”
Heat surged—possessive instinct flaring hot and dangerous—but restraint followed just as fast.
“We should stop,” I said, even though every part of me rebelled. “You deserve so much more than?—”
Her eyes flashed. “Don’t tell me what I deserve.” She cupped my face. “I want you.”
