He presses a kiss to my hair, bringing me even closer to him.
A few minutes of silence pass, and he finally lets out a long sigh.
“You want to go back in?” he asks, so casual it almost isn’t, but his eyes are begging me to say no as he peers down at me.
“Whenever you’re ready,” I say, shrugging, “I’m not in a hurry.”
Instead of heading back in, we stay where we are, arms wrapped around each other. I never knew that someone who was a stranger only a couple of months ago could feel like my lifeline in this storm of change.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
24
GRAYSON
Instead of heading back inside, we decide to walk farther down the hall, making our way around the arena. I keep us in the open, keep the exits visible, all while keeping her hand in mine.
When I spot the door with the small plaque—ANNOUNCER BOOTH—I slow and glance at her.
“Want to sit in here for a bit?”
She gives me a small smile. “Are weallowedto be in here?”
I grin at that. “Honestly, I have no idea.” I try the doorknob, and it’s unlocked. “But it seems to be open, so…”
She laughs, and I open the door, letting her go in first.
Inside, it’s dim, but not dark. A narrow window overlooks the rink below, empty right now, lights low, the ice washed in a pale glow that makes it look and feel peaceful.
I close the door behind us quietly, and then I stop, hands at my sides. Not because I don’t want to touch her, because, believe me, I want to. Badly. But I also don’t want to make this about what I want versus what she needs.
Harlow turns to face me. In the low light, her eyes look even bigger. Her expression is calm, but I can see the edge under it.The way she’s holding herself together on purpose, maybe for me, since I was the one struggling tonight, and she was there to calm me.
My gaze flicks to her mouth, just for a second, but it feels like a match striking.
Her lips part slightly, like she saw where my gaze landed and doesn’t know what to do about it. Like she’s deciding whether she’s allowed to want the same thing.
I don’t move, don’t push.
I let the moment sit between us, and the tension cracks.
Harlow doesn’t turn away or move her gaze, but her breathing shifts, becoming slightly heavier, like she can’t ignore the pull between us either. She doesn’t close the gap between us, though. She stands there fighting the same war that I’m fighting with myself.
Taking a step toward her, I lift my hand slowly, giving her every chance to stop me. Every chance to take a step back and put distance between us again. I brush my knuckles along her cheek, and her skin sparks under mine. And when she leans into my touch before she can stop herself, my breath stutters like my body just admitted something my brain’s been trying to deny.
For one terrifying second, I feel just how badly I want her. Not in a reckless way. This isn’t me acting on an impulse, but on something that’s been slowly building to the point where I can no longer deny its existence. In a way that feels like tenderness and hunger braided together so tightly that I don’t know where one ends and the other begins.
“Stop thinking so much,” she teases, like she can hear the gears grinding in my head.
My mouth twitches—almost a smile, almost the kind of pain I keep behind my teeth. “I’m trying.”
“I know,” she whispers, and her voice drops into something that feels like a hand on the back of my neck. “But…right now, you need to stop thinking and kiss me.”
Without wasting another second, I slide my hand to the side of her neck, thumb under her ear, and I lean in like I’m moving through water. Like I’m afraid if I go too fast, she’ll vanish. My mouth brushes hers, barely a touch, and my whole body comes to life. My hand squeezes just a fraction from how much I am holding back.
She makes a small sound, barely audible, but it only makes me desperate for more.
I kiss her again, deeper this time. Still controlled, but I can feel any shreds of my restraint slipping.
