“Not right now.”
His voice drops just slightly.
And that—
That lands differently.
“Why not?” I ask.
But it’s softer than it should be.
Less challenge.
More… something else.
Logan steps closer.
Not sudden.
Not overwhelming.
Deliberate.
Like everything he does.
“Because for once,” he says, his voice low, steady, “we’re not reacting.”
A pause.
“We’re choosing.”
That hits deeper than it should.
Because he’s right.
This isn’t pressure.
This isn’t adrenaline.
This isn’t survival.
This is—
Choice.
My breath shifts.
Just slightly.
Enough that I feel it.
Enough that he notices.
His hand comes up again, slower this time, giving me space to stop him.
I don’t.
His fingers brush along my jaw, warm, grounding, and for a second—just a second—I feel something dangerously close to unguarded.
