“Then I should probably stop touching you,” she whispers.
“Don’t,” I breathe. “Don’t ever stop touching me.”
The words escape before I can catch them. She stills — just for a heartbeat — then looks up at me, eyes soft, lips parted.
“You’re better at talking about your feelings than you think you are,” she says quietly, and then she kisses me.
It’s slow at first — tender, searching — but soon the rhythm deepens, and the world narrows down to the feel of her against me. Skin on skin. Breath against breath. Everything I’ve been afraid to say pours out through touch instead of words.
It isn’t about sex — not really. It’s about the silence that follows, the quiet that settles between us when we’re both too raw to speak. It’s about how my pulse finally slows when she’s inmy arms, and how, for the first time in years, I don’t feel alone in my own head.
I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I know one thing for certain.
If this is falling, I don’t ever want to hit the ground.
Thirty Six
Matilda
Waking up with Henry pressed against my back feels like a kind of heaven I didn’t know existed. His arm is wrapped around my waist, his breath warm against the back of my neck, and for a few blissful seconds I forget about everything — the interview, the office, the fact that we’re skating a fine line between passion and disaster.
The morning light seeps through the bottom of the curtains, drawing me back to reality. I reach for my phone.
6:15 a.m.
I groan, and Henry stirs behind me.
“What time is it?” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep.
“Too early,” I whisper. “Go back to sleep.”
He presses a kiss to my shoulder. “There’s also time for something else that’s better than sleep.”
I laugh — and, two hours later, I’m standing in line at the coffee shop, hair freshly washed, cheeks still faintly pink fromsomething better than sleep.
Henry dropped me off at the café before heading to the office, stealing one last breathtaking kiss in the car. My world has spun completely upside down, and I’ve never felt so giddy about it.
“Morning, Matilda! The usual?” Luke calls from behind the counter, all smiles.
“Yes please,” I reply. Luke’s been here for a few months now. I was his first customer on his first day, and somehow that turned into a friendly morning routine.
“What about a treat? Feeling adventurous?” he grins, gesturing to the display of golden pastries.
“Hmm…” I lean forward, scanning the counter. “What would you recommend?”
“Chocolate palmiers. Just baked them this morning.” His eyes light up with pride.
“Then I’ll take two.” I smile — and my stomach growls in agreement. Apparently, early-morning activities build quite the appetite.
“Matilda!”
I freeze at the sound of my name and turn to see Thomas standing in the queue, a blonde woman beside him.
“Oh, hey, Thomas,” I say, forcing a smile. My cheeks instantly heat.Please don’t let him be able to tell.“How are you?”
“I’m good,” he says easily. “I hear you’re going for the residential position with Sharon — that’s great. Heard anything yet?”
My stomach flips.How the hell does he know?
