But I did. I leaned in, closing the space between us until I could feel the warmth of his breath.
And then I kissed him.
I’d never really kissed a boy I liked before. For so many years, it had just been Finn and I and that had been enough for us. I had been approached before, but no one ever stirred the feelings in me like these four men did.
His lips stilled under mine for the barest second—like he couldn’t believe it was happening.
Then his hands moved. Slowly, reverently. One found the curve of my waist, fingers splaying wide, drawing me closer. The other rose to the back of my neck, his palm warm and sure as it cradled me like something precious.
He deepened the kiss—not greedy or demanding, justthere, like he’d been waiting for it without knowing how badly until now. The heat of him wrapped around me, his body all golden strength and velvet control.
When we finally parted, his breath was shaky, his forehead resting lightly against mine.
“Gods, Elle,” he murmured. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
I swallowed, the world narrowing to the sound of his heartbeat, the press of his chest against mine. “I might’ve had an idea,” I whispered.
His arms tightened, pulling me into the warmth of his embrace. Not just for heat. For comfort. For safety. For everything I hadn’t let myself want until this moment.
And for once, I didn’t pull away.
He kissed me again, pushing me back on the bed so he lay over me. He ran his fingers over my skin, worshipping every piece of me. I giggled as it tickled me.
He nuzzled into my neck. “Gods you smell good,”
“I smell horrible. I haven’t even bathed today.”
“Nope,” he took a deep breath. “You smell like a goddamn meal.”
He kissed me again, this one longer. I could feel my blood heat at his touch.
Then, slowly, gently, he pulled back.
His hand brushed down my arm, lingering at my wrist. “Elle…” he said softly, voice rough around the edges. “We should stop.”
I blinked, startled. “Why?”
He cupped my cheek with one calloused hand, his thumb stroking beneath my eye. “Because if we don’t, I won’t be able to.”
The confession left him raw, and it softened something in me.
He didn’t move away, not completely. He just let the moment settle, breathing with me until the heat cooled between us—until want was replaced with something quieter. Safer.
“Food, then?” I asked, with a crooked smile.
He laughed, grateful. “Food.”
We ate cross-legged on the bed, digging into the meal he’d gathered. Leo made exaggerated faces at every bite, claiming each thing wasdefinitelythe best, only to change his mind on the next one. I nearly choked on my wine when he described the mashed potatoes as “like a warm hug from a grandma who bakes spells into her cookies.”
By the time we finished, my stomach was full and aching from laughter.
When I leaned back against the pillows, Leo stood up, brushing crumbs from his hands. “Stay right there,” he said, then darted toward the corner of the room where he’d dropped his coat.
He pulled out a small, battered book—clearly well-read, its spine cracked and pages soft with age.
“You read?” I asked, surprised.
“Only the best smut,” he said with a wink. “But tonight? Tonight you get the good stuff.” He held the book up like it wastreasure. “This was my little sister’s favourite. She used to make me read it out loud to her when she couldn’t sleep.”
