Yet despite every attempt to reason with myself, it was no longer something I could deny or protect myself against. Because in that dream, in that endless darkness where fear had wrapped itself around me and refused to let go, there had only ever been one name I had cried out. It hadn’t been because he was the strongest being I knew. Nor because I believed he could fight for me, protect me, or keep me safe. No, it was waking in his arms, and that finally made the truth impossible to ignore. The truth was that it had become something deeper. Something far more dangerous. Something that had already taken hold before I’d fully realized it.
And now, the thing that terrified me most was no longer admitting it. It was the thought of missing my chance. Of lettingfear and doubt steal something that felt inevitable, like the rising of the sun. Like the quiet certainty that our worlds would eventually collide. And in a way that might tear him from me before I had ever truly allowed myself to have him.
Which meant that, for once, I didn’t want to overthink it. I didn’t want to let fear creep in and poison something that already felt too fragile to survive that kind of scrutiny. I didn’t want to question whether I would disappoint him. I didn’t want to wonder if my insecurities would take over and convince me that this was a mistake before it had even begun. Or if he would see me differently once everything was laid bare. If my body would somehow fail to live up to the desire, I had already seen reflected in his eyes when he saw me in that dress for the first time.
I didn’t want to think about whether my hips were too soft, my stomach too imperfect. Or whether the reality of me would dull whatever it was that had burned between us before. Because at that moment, none of it mattered.
All that mattered was him.
The way he held me, the way he grounded me. The way I had reached for him without hesitation, even in my fear. How, despite everything, I still wanted more. So instead of overthinking this, instead of questioning every single thing…I moved.
I turned in his arms and faced him before I lifted my hand to his face. My fingers brushed softly along his cheek as I took him in properly. The concern already etched into his expression was clear beneath the low glow of the bedside lamp he had turned on. It was there in his eyes before he even spoke, before my name left his lips in that quiet, questioning way.
“Eliza?”But I didn’t answer him, because words suddenly didn’t feel enough. Inadequate even for what I was trying to say.Instead, I shifted closer, lifting my chin as I closed the small distance between us and pressed my lips to his.
For a brief moment, he didn’t respond. The surprise of it held him still as though he hadn’t expected this from me. As though the shift between us had caught him off guard. But when he didn’t immediately return the kiss, doubt flickered just enough for me to begin pulling back.
However, the second I did, the moment he felt that hesitation, his arms tightened around me, pulling me firmly against him. He took over completely, deepening the kiss with a confidence that sent a rush of heat through me. It wasn’t hesitant or careful…it was all-consuming.The kind of kiss that felt like it could burn its way straight through to my soul, drawing a soft, involuntary sound from me that I couldn’t quite contain as I melted into it.
My hands moved without thinking then, guided by instinct rather than logic as they traced over him. Exploring the warmth and strength of his body in a way I had wanted to from the very first moment I had seen him. My fingers trailed across his back, following the lines of muscle and the faint shimmer of those markings beneath his skin. He groaned at the contact, the sound low and rough against my lips before his voice followed,
“You play with fire, little one.”
Maybe he was right, maybe I was. But in that moment, I didn’t care. Because whatever this was, whatever line I was crossing, I knew without hesitation that I would rather burn than pull away now. I would rather risk everything than wonder what might have been if I hadn’t taken this chance.
“Eliza.”My name came again, but this time it carried a different weight, something closer to restraint than warning. And when he added, more quietly,
“I have limits here,”it broke through the haze just enough for confusion to settle in. I pulled back slightly, though not far. Notenough for him to release me. His hold still firm around me, and in a way that completely contradicted his words.
“I don’t understand,” I admitted, the vulnerability in my voice impossible to hide, even if I wished I could. Yet he still didn’t pull away. Didn’t pull back even as his unsteady breaths ghosted over my skin. The tension threading through him in a way that made something inside me still.
“I know I said I would go at your pace…” he murmured, a quiet frustration slipping through despite his control.
“…but you are making that increasingly difficult, my sweet girl,”he continued after the pause, one that sounded like he needed, and with that, it finally clicked. The realization settled into place with a quiet clarity that made my breath catch as I finally understood what he meant. That this wasn’t the rejection I feared or any hesitation on his part…but restraint.
This was him holding himself back for me, believing that I still needed that distance. That I wasn’t ready for more, and this was nothing but a kiss. The care behind it, and the restraint it must have taken to stop, only made my chest tighten further. Because somehow…it made me fall for him even more.
I shook my head slightly, not in refusal, but in quiet contradiction to what he thought this was. His hand tightened just enough against my face to steady me as he leaned closer. His voice soft, almost soothing, as he murmured,
“It’s all right.”
The reassurance in it should have calmed me. But instead, it only made something in me push back, because he still didn’t understand. And when he added,
“We can go slow,”a soft, almost breathless laugh slipped from me before I could stop it. Not from nerves…but from the simple truth that slow was the last thing I wanted. So, I told him on a breathy whisper,
“But what if I don’t want to go slow?”the words leaving me more honestly than I had intended, yet it didn’t stop them from being the truth.
His entire body stilled beside me as though that had been the very last thing he had expected to hear. And for a moment, he simply stared at me, searching my face as if trying to understand what had changed. Then he shook his head slightly, his expression tightening in a way that told me exactly where his thoughts had gone.
“The dream,” he said quietly, as though that explained everything, and I stilled at that. My hand lifted instinctively to his face, cradling it gently to stop that subtle denial from settling in. Now forcing him to look at me properly, as I shook my head again, more firmly this time.
“It has nothing to do with the dream.”
He gave me a look that was somewhere between disbelief and concern. As though he didn’t quite trust that answer, and I felt something inside me tighten at the thought. At the idea that he believed this was fear speaking rather than choice.
“But it has everything to do with wanting you, and any hesitation I felt earlier was because I was afraid of…of disappointing you,”I admitted, the words quieter now, more vulnerable, but no less true. And for a split second, he just stared at me. Real surprise breaking through whatever control he had been holding onto. His mouth parting slightly as though he hadn’t expected that…hadn’t expected me to say something like that at all.
And then he moved.
