“Okay,” I breathe.
Neither of us moves.
The moment stretches, thick with something unspoken. He’s looking at my mouth—I know because I’m looking at his, cataloging the shape of his lips, wondering what they’d feel like against mine.
I should step back. Say goodnight. Walk inside and put distance between us before I do something I can’t undo.
I don’t move.
He lifts his hand slowly, giving me time to pull away, and brushes a strand of hair from my face. His fingers graze my cheek, feather-light, and I forget how to breathe.
“Tori,” he says again, and my name sounds like a confession.
“Yeah?”
His thumb traces along my jaw, tilting my face up. We’re inches apart. I can feel the warmth of his breath, see the way his pupils have gone dark.
This is a bad idea. I have rules. I have—
His eyes search mine, asking a question I don’t know how to answer.
Then he steps back.
Cold rushes in where his warmth used to be, and I have to stop myself from swaying toward him.
“I should let you get some sleep.” His voice is rough, strained. “Early flight.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
He gestures toward the entrance. “After you.”
We walk the last fifty feet in charged silence. The elevator ride is worse—we stand on opposite sides of the small space like we’re afraid of what might happen if we get too close. The air feels thick, electric, and I can barely breathe around the tension. I have never in my life wanted to kiss someone this badly. Every nerve in my body is tuned to him, cataloging the rise and fall of his chest, the clench of his jaw, the way his hands are shoved in his pockets like he doesn’t trust them to behave. I dig my nails into my palms and watch the floor numbers climb.
My floor comes first. I step out and turn.
“Goodnight, Zayden.”
“Goodnight, Tori.” His eyes hold mine as the doors slide closed. “Sleep well.”
I stand in the hallway for a long moment, hand pressed to my chest, heart hammering against my ribs.
Then I walk to my room on unsteady legs, let myself in, and lean back against the door.
I can still feel his fingers on my jaw, the warmth of his jacket around my shoulders, the way he looked at me like I was something precious he wanted but wouldn’t let himself take.
I need a cold shower to wash away the feeling ofalmost—almost kissing him, almost giving in to something I know I shouldn’t want but absolutely do.
Zayden Bishop almost kissed me tonight.
And I would have let him.
8
LITTLE SHADOW
Zayden
Maisie launches herself at me the moment Bree opens the door.
