“This,” I murmur against her lips, my voice almost part of her breath. “We did not do this with just anyone.”
She blinks up at me. “The forehead thing?”
“Yes.” One corner of my mouth lifts. “We gave our brow only to those we trusted with our lives. It was… more than a kiss. Less than a prayer.”
Her throat works.
“You did it for me,” she whispers. “After the interview.”
“I did,” I say simply. “I do it now. So you remember: I am not here because it is convenient. I am here because I cannot imagine not being.”
Her eyes shine.
“Okay,” she breathes. “Okay.”
I tilt her head, just enough to fit my mouth over hers.
The first kiss is slow.
No rush. Not overwhelming.
Her lips part on a soft sigh that burrows to my marrow.
She tastes of mint and tea and the salt of tears that have already dried.
My hands slide down—over the curve of her shoulders, the line of her spine—memorizing her all over again, like I didn’t map her just days ago with my mouth and hands and hunger.
She steps closer, pressing her body along the length of mine. There’s no hesitation this time. No careful half-distance. Her entire weight leans into me as though she’s finished calculating risks and is ready to fall.
“Bed,” she whispers against my mouth.
The word lights every fuse I have left.
I scoop her up without breaking the kiss.
She makes a startled sound that turns into a laugh, then into a soft cry when my hands find the backs of her thighs, her arms looped around my neck.
I lay her down carefully, like she’s something sacred I’ve been allowed to touch.
Maybe that’s exactly what she is.
I brace one hand beside her head, hovering over her, giving her space to breathe, to see me.
“Tell me what you want,” I say.
Her fingers trail down my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth.
“You,” she says simply. “All the way. With my brain online and my heart on purpose and my body… yes.”
Heat slams through me.
I take one breath. Two. My control is not the arena’s control anymore—rigid, survival-hard. It’s a softer thing, shaped around her, made of wanting her whole, not just wanting her.
“We stop at any moment,” I remind her. “For any reason. For no reason.”
She nods, serious. “Same.”
That earns a rough huff of laughter from my chest.
