And right now, I don’t want to hold it together anymore.
Not this.
Not him.
“Ethan…” His name leaves me softer than I intend, more breath than sound, and I don’t even realize what I’m about to do until I feel myself leaning forward.
Closing the space.
Choosing it.
His body stills instantly, like he wasn’t expecting that, like he’s waiting for me to pull away again.
I don’t.
My fingers loosen in his shirt and slide upward, curling at the back of his neck as I tilt my head and press my mouth to his.
The kiss is not soft or careful.
It’s urgent.
Everything I’ve been holding back breaking loose at once, the adrenaline still running through me, the fear and tension twisting into something else as I pull him closer.
For a heartbeat, he freezes, completely still, like he’s deciding something.
Then his hand tightens at my waist, drawing me fully against him, and everything shifts.
The kiss deepens, slower this time, more controlled, his mouth moving against mine with a steady precision that turns something impulsive into something consuming. There’s nothing hesitant about him now, no distance, no restraint, just heat and focus and the undeniable feeling of being pulled into something that has its own gravity.
“Careful,” he murmurs against my mouth, the word rough, carrying both warning and promise.
I don’t pull back.
“Then stop me.”
That’s all it takes.
His hand slides higher along my back, his fingers threading into my hair, guiding the angle, deepening the kiss in a way that steals the breath from my lungs. The tension from outside, the fear and the adrenaline, all of it folds into this, into the way my body reacts to his, into the way I lean into him without hesitation.
This isn’t fear anymore. It’s something else entirely, something reckless, something I probably should stop, but I don’t. My hands tighten instead, pulling him closer because I need something stronger than the memory of the man in the woods, something solid and real.
Him.
His breathing’s heavier now, his control still there but thinner at the edges, stretched just enough that I can feel it, and that does something to me, something dangerous, because I know he doesn’t lose control easily. But right now, he’s close.
“You don’t get to—” I start, but the words fall apart when his mouth moves against mine again, cutting off whatever argument I thought I had.
“Too late,” he murmurs.
My back presses harder into the counter as he leans in, his body steady and unyielding, filling the space completely until there’s nothing left but this moment, this heat, this pull I can’t seem to resist. His hand tightens slightly in my hair, just enough to make me inhale sharply, just enough to send a reaction through me that I can’t ignore.
“Still think you’re in control?” he asks, his voice low.
I force myself to meet his gaze, even as my breathing refuses to steady. “Yes.”
The lie hangs there between us, obvious.
Something shifts in his expression, something darker, more certain, and instead of calling me on it, he leans in again, slower this time, giving me the space to stop him.
