His jaw tightens briefly.
“What scares you?” I press.
He studies my face like he’s deciding how honest to be.
“Wanting it,” he says finally.
My heart stutters.
“Wanting what?”
“This.” He gestures vaguely between us. “Not just the logistics. Not just the plan.”
The air thickens.
“We said we wouldn’t rush,” I remind him softly.
“I know.”
He pushes off the counter and steps fully into my space.
“Come here,” he says.
It’s not seductive.
It’s not commanding.
It’s steady.
I step into him.
His arms wrap around me.
Warm.
Solid.
Grounded.
I didn’t realize how much I needed that until I am already melting into it.
His chin rests briefly against the top of my head.
We breathe.
Together.
“I’m not rushing,” he murmurs.
“I know.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me.
His hand slides up my arm, slow, deliberate.
He presses a kiss to my cheek.
Gentle.
