He side-glances. “Ihaveto. You’re too dumb to survive on your own.”
But there’s no bite behind it. Just something tight in his jaw, something almost... protective.
His knee bounces, as if he’s anxious. “I guess I worry about you,” he says, barely audible. “A lot.”
I grin, warmth bubbling up. “Because… I’m your girlfriend?”
But instead of grinning back, he looks away.
Silent. Distant.
Like I ruined something.
And I don’t understand why.
If he likes me so much... why won’t he justsayit?
Late that night, he slips into my room.
No knock. Just the creak of the door and his body pressing into the mattress like he owns it.
Like he ownsme.
He always comes to me in the dark, when I can’t look him in the eyes and ask what this means.
His chest presses to my back, solid and hot. His arm curls heavy around my waist, dragging me close, holding me like I’m something heneedsto breathe.
And then his lips, warm and slow, start brushing the back of my neck.
Not just once.
Again.
And again.
Each kiss lingers a little longer than the last. He’s not trying to turn me on.
He’s...trying to tell me something.
His nose brushes my skin as he breathes me in, deep and shaky. Like he’s memorizing me.
“Charlotte,” he whispers.
My heart kicks. “Yeah?”
A long silence.
Then low and hoarse:
“I wish I’d gotten to know you before my life got sofucked up.”
I pause, then bring his hand to my lips and kiss his knuckles. “It’s okay. We’ve got time. We have our whole lives—”
He exhales, sharp and short. Not a laugh. More like a wince. He doesn’t answer. He just tightens his grip. Squeezes metootight, like I might vanish if he doesn’t hold on hard enough.
I melt into him. Every inch of my back flush to every inch of him. His heart beats against my spine, his breath on my shoulder, his powerful body a cage I never want to leave.
In the dark, I whisper, “I...” I almost say it. Almost slip. But I bite back the L-word, and instead, I add, “Ireallylike you. So... you can tell me anything about your past. I won’t judge you.”
