“You’re stunning.”
My knees almost buckle.
Then he lifts a hand, slow, deliberate, and touches my cheek.
“Come here,” he whispers.
And I do.
The room feels too warm. Or maybe it’s just him.
He steps closer, slow and deliberate, like he’s giving me a chance to run even though we both know I’m not going anywhere.
His fingers brush my cheek.
The lightest touch. Barely there. But my whole body reacts.
“You came,” he says quietly.
I swallow. “You asked.”
Something flickers in his eyes, surprise, desire, something deeper I can’t name.
He lifts his other hand and gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture is soft enough to shatter me.
“You look incredible,” he murmurs.
I try to respond, but the words stick in my throat.
All I can manage is a shaky, “You too.”
He smiles, small, warm, devastating.
He steps in until the space between us disappears. I feel his breath on my lips.
“Ruby,” he whispers, “tell me you want to be here.”
My heart stutters.
“I want to be here.”
His breath leaves him in a slow exhale, like he wasn’t letting himself believe it until now.
He lifts my chin with his thumb.
“Kiss me.”
I do.
And the second our mouths meet, everything else falls away.
His hands slide to my waist, pulling me against him. Mine slip into his hair. The kiss deepens immediately, slow, then hungry, then slow again, like he’s savoring every shift of my tongue against his.
He kisses me like he’s learning me. Like he wants to memorize the shape of my mouth. Like every second without me has been a mistake.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests on mine.
“Come with me,” he whispers.
