“You’re stubborn,” I said quietly.
Her eyebrows lifted. “You’re just figuring that out?”
“I’ve been trying to respect it.”
A small smile tugged at her mouth, then disappeared just as quickly.
She raised her hand, fingers brushing lightly, uncertainly, over the front of my shirt, then resting there as though she was testing whether I was real. The contact sent a clean line of heat through me. I stayed still.
Her thumb moved once against the fabric.
“You’re very…” she started, then stopped.
“Very what?”
“Present,” she said finally, sounding annoyed.
I took a step closer. Her gaze locked on my mouth, then flicked back to my eyes. The room was so still that I could hear the soft rustle of sheets when she inched closer.
I watched her for a second. She sat on the edge of the bed with her shoulders slightly forward, one hand still resting against my chest. She looked smaller from this angle; not fragile, just contained. The lamp beside her threw soft light across her face, catching the tension in her mouth and the stubborn line of her jaw.
Slowly, I crouched, sitting back on my heels in front of her. Surprise flickered through her eyes before she schooled it away.
Again, her focus dropped briefly to my mouth. The mattress creaked softly when she moved, a subtle adjustment that brought her closer without committing to the movement.
I could feel the warmth coming off her now, steady and grounding, and it took effort not to close the distance too fast.
She kept her hand on my chest.
I didn’t touch her yet.
“You don’t have to look so serious,” she murmured.
The corner of her mouth twitched.
I moved closer, slow enough that she had time to change her mind. Her knees brushed my sides, and she slid her free hand behind my neck. At the contact, I felt a sharp pull low in my stomach.
She made the decision for both of us then, tilting forward just slightly until our heads rested together, temple against temple. I could feel her breath on my skin, feel how carefully she was holding herself. The faint scent of her shampoo drifted up when her hair brushed my jaw.
The closeness felt volatile. I needed to cherish it while I had it. Her fingers tightened at the back of my neck, and I settled my hand lightly at her waist, giving her plenty of room to pull away if she wanted to.
“You’re stubborn,” I said again.
She huffed a faint laugh. “So are you.”
I smiled against her skin.
Her shoulders relaxed by degrees, and the tension between us shifted from sharp to heavy, wanting. I turned my head just enough that our mouths were close without touching.
“Zoey,” I murmured.
She didn’t answer with words. Her hand slid from my neck to my jaw, warm and sure, and she kissed me first.
The kiss started carefully, testing, her lips soft but hesitant, then deepened when I kissed her back. I kept my movement restrained, letting her set the pace, letting her decide how far we went. Her hand curled against my face, and the small sound she made when I kissed her again went straight through me.
I wanted to pull her closer. God, I wanted a lot of things, but I didn’t rush.
The room narrowed until it felt like only her warmth and the space I was trying so hard not to take up existed.
