I do.
His eyes soften. Dark and warm and full of something I don’t want to name.
Then he leans in, and touches his lips to mine.
It’s soft. So soft it hurts.
A question. A warning. A promise.
I melt instantly.
My hand slides up his chest without permission, clutching his shirt like I need something to hold onto.
He deepens the kiss just slightly, tilting his head, letting the heat build, letting me fall into it.
And god, I fall.
A soft sound escapes me.
His fingers tighten at my jaw.
He pulls back just an inch.
Just enough to murmur against my lips:
“Again.”
I inhale sharply.
He kisses me again, deeper this time, slow and consuming and controlled.
My whole body lights up.
His hand slides to my waist. Mine curls at the back of his neck.
I forget the office. I forget my name. I forget everything except the feeling of him kissing me like he’s been holding himself back for days.
Because he has.
We break apart slowly.
Breathless.
Shaken.
Changed.
His forehead rests against mine.
“Ruby,” he whispers. “This is going to get complicated.”
I whisper back, “I know.”
“And you’re not running this time.”
“I know.”
His thumb strokes my jaw.
