He stops behind me, close enough that I can feel the heat of him, but he doesn’t touch me yet.
Doesn’t crowd me.
Just stands there.
“You just don’t see what I see.”
My throat goes tight.
Because that?
That’s exactly the problem.
I don’t.
I’ve never had a reason to.
My gaze flicks back to the mirror.
To him.
To the way he’s looking at me like I’m not something to question.
But something to want.
And that’s where this gets dangerous.
Because it’s not just physical anymore.
And I can feel it.
Creeping in.
Soft.
Insistent.
Real.
I shake my head slightly, like I can physically push it away.
“Don’t do that,” I say quietly.
“Do what?”
“Make this,” I gesture between us, struggling for the word. “More than it is.”
His expression shifts.
Something darker flickers there.
Not angry.
Not exactly.
But not backing down either.
“Hadley,” he says, my name low and steady, “I’m not the one pretending this is something it’s not. And I know you’re not ready to talk about it. So we won’t. Not now.”
