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Her fingers tighten at the back of my head as if she’s daring me to pull away.
I don’t.
But I don’t deepen it either.
Because something about the moment feels wrong.
Not bad.
Just…
Different.
There’s heat.
Plenty of it.
But it isn’t the same electricity that once shot through me behind a velvet curtain five years ago.
This is darker.
Heavier.
Like stepping into a storm instead of lightning striking.
Isa pulls back first.
Her breathing is uneven.
Mine probably is too.
“Well?” she asks quietly.
I look at her.
Really look.
She’s beautiful.
Strong.
Confident.
On paper, she makes perfect sense.
But the truth sits heavy in my chest.
I still don’t know what I’m doing.
And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.
