“This was unnecessary,” he says quietly.
“It kept you from being dragged back into that thing.”
His jaw tightens slightly.
“That outcome remains unacceptable.”
I huff out a breath.
“We’ve established that.”
Silence settles as his thumb shifts against my wrist. Barely a movement, but I feel it all the way up my arm, and my breath catches. Just for a second.
He lifts his eyes to mine, and the air between us changes. Subtle, but there. He steps closer. His hand slides from my wrist up my arm, slow, deliberate, like he’s mapping the distance between us.
My pulse spikes. I don’t move. I don’t step back. I don’t break the moment. Because I want this.
“You stayed,” he says again.
The words are soft.
“I told you,” I answer. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”
His gaze searches mine, like he’s looking for something more than the words. Something that proves it. Something that holds.
He finds it. I see the moment it settles in him. The shift. The decision. His hand moves to my waist.
Not sudden. Not forceful. Certain as he pulls me a little closer. Enough that the space between us disappears. My breath stutters.
He lowers his head, not taking, not forcing, just closing the distance. Waiting. Giving me the choice.
My hand comes up to his chest without thinking, fingers pressing lightly over his hearts, which are beating too fast and too uneven.
“I’m here,” I whisper.
His eyes darken, then he closes the distance. The kiss isn’t rushed. It isn’t soft either. It’s… deliberate.
His mouth finds mine with a pressure that’s controlled but unmistakable, like he’s holding back just enough to avoid overwhelming me.
Testing. Learning.
My body reacts before my thoughts can catch up. I lean into him, closing the space he left open, my fingers tightening against his chest as the contact deepens.
He exhales against my lips, the sound rough, unsteady, like this is affecting him as much as it affects me. More.
His hand tightens at my waist, pulling me closer, anchoring me against him as the kiss shifts. Deeper, less tentative.
Not taking, but not holding back anymore either. The world narrows. The desert. The danger. The others. All of it fades.
There’s just this.
This connection.
This moment where everything we’ve been through collides into something that feels right.
His other hand brushes along my side, then stills, like he’s catching himself. The restraint hits me just as hard as the touch.
He’s still fighting it. Still holding that line.
