Page 142

My mouth opens. No words come out.

He leans in, just enough for his lips to hover by mine, not kissing. Not touching. Justwaiting.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “say it with more conviction.”

And then—just as my pulse finally starts to normalize—he steps back.

Not because he’s dismissing me.

Because he’s lettingmechase him now.

Gods, I do the stupidest thing imaginable.

I do chase him.

Not with words. Not with strategy or command. I chase hismouth. Hissilence. That maddening restraint that’s been curling beneath my skin for days, for weeks—since the first time he looked at me like he’d already seen every way I would come undone.

I move.

Quick. Reckless. I don’t eventhink. There’s no time to second-guess the burn in my cheeks or the ache in my chest or the fact that his smile is still lingering on his lips like heknewI’d break first.

I close the distance and reach for him, one hand at his jaw, the other catching the edge of his collar like I need something solid to anchor me.

And then I kiss him.

Ikisshim.

And it’s not smooth. It’s not practiced or perfect or even particularly graceful. My mouth hits his a little too fast, our noses bump slightly, and for a horrifying half-second I think I’ve misread it—that he’ll pull away, that he’ll let me collapse into this mortifying spiral alone.

But then—

He catches me. Like he waswaitingfor me to fall.

His hand rises to the back of my neck, slow and firm, fingers threading into my hair with the kind of control that doesn’t demand—itclaims.Not because I’m weak. But because he wants me strongin his hands.

And he kisses me back. Orin kisses like he moves—deliberate, devastating, disciplined. But there’s heat underneath it. The kind that’s been waiting far too long to be let loose. The kind that isn’t patient anymore.

His mouth parts just slightly, just enough for me to taste the groan he doesn’t quite let out. I open for him, greedy, pulling him closer, and when I feel the scrape of his teeth against my bottom lip, I nearly collapse.

Because it’s not a kiss meant toseduce.

It’s a kiss meant tomark.

He pulls back an inch. Just enough to speak against my mouth.

“I told you,” he says, voice rough with restraint, “say it with more conviction.”

And then he kisses me again.

Slower this time. More measured. His other hand slides to my hip, thumb pressing into the bone like he’s making space for me there. Like I belong tucked into him, trembling and flushed, gasping between words I no longer remember how to say.

I don’t know how long we stand there. Could be seconds. Could be centuries.

His mouth is still on mine when he says it. Not a whisper. Not a moan. Not that low, seductive murmur meant to coax me into something I’ve already given him. His voice is deliberate. Steady. Like he’s speaking a vow into my throat.

“I love you.”

Three words. Simple.