"This is still a terrible idea," she said.
"Probably."
"We barely know each other."
"We're learning."
Her hand slid from my jaw to the back of my neck, her fingers threading through my hair. I felt her pull, gentle but deliberate, and I went willingly, bending toward her until our foreheads touched.
"Keira," I said quietly. "If you don't want this—"
"I want it." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "That's what scares me."
"What scares you more? Wanting it, or having it?"
"I don't know." Her breath was warm against my lips. "Ask me again tomorrow."
"Tomorrow's a long way off."
"Then maybe we should stop talking."
She closed the distance herself, pulling me down into a kiss that started soft and turned hungry. I braced my hands on the counter on either side of her, letting her control the angle, the depth, the pace. She tasted like wine and something sweeter underneath—something that was just her.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. Her eyes were dark, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed with color.
"We should slow down," she said.
"Probably."
"I should go to my room."
"You could."
"I should think about this. Make sure I'm not making a mistake."
"That's very sensible."
She laughed, a breathless sound. "You're not helping."
"I'm not trying to help. I'm trying to be honest." I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering on the curve of her jaw. "Whatever you decide, I'll respect it. If you want to go to your room and think, I'll say goodnight and mean it. If you want something else..." I let the sentence hang.
She looked at me for a long moment. I watched her weigh the options, saw the exact moment when she made her decision.
"Something else," she said. "I want something else."
My heart was hammering in my chest. "You're sure?"
"No." She smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. "But I'm tired of being sure. I'm tired of being careful. I want to feel something, even if it's a mistake."
I took her hand and led her out of the kitchen. She followed without hesitation.
Neither of us looked back.
Chapter 16 - Keira
He led me down the hallway toward his bedroom, and with every step I felt the weight of what I was doing pressing against my chest. Not regret—not yet, maybe not ever—but the awareness that I was crossing a line I couldn't uncross. That after tonight, whatever we were would be something different.
His hand was warm around mine. Steady. He wasn't rushing, wasn't pulling me along like a prize he'd won. He was giving me time to change my mind.
