I turn off the engine. The silence lands heavy.
She doesn’t reach for the door.
Neither do I.
When I finally turn to her, it’s the first time all night I let myself really look. The streetlight catches her mouth—still stained red, lips parted, like she’s about to say what she hasn’t decided on yet.
I lift a hand slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. She doesn’t.
My thumb brushes her jaw, then stills, like I’m committing the shape of her to memory. My gaze drops back to her lips, and the pull is almost painful.
“Melissa,” I murmur.
She inhales sharply at the sound of her name on my tongue. I lean in, but I don’t kiss her yet.
I let the moment stretch. My forehead hovers close to hers. The tension between us is thick enough to touch. Her breaths quicken. I feel it before I hear it.
My lips brush hers once. Barely.
A test.
She exhales. It’s a soft, unguarded sound, and that’s all it takes.
I kiss her slowly, deliberately. Her mouth opens on a sigh, and the sound slides straight through me, loosening the tight grip I’ve had on myself.
I deepen the kiss, unhurried, letting my mouth move against hers with intention instead of hunger. She responds immediately, meeting me with a quiet moan that vibrates between us.
My hand slips to her knee.
I drag my thumb lightly over the fabric of her dress, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. Her breath stutters, and she presses closer.
I pull back enough to kiss the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then back to her lips. I tease her slowly, making her wait, even as her fingers curl into my coat.
Her breathing turns uneven.
I slide my hand higher along her thigh. I feel the tremor run through her, and it hits me harder than anything else tonight.
I don’t take more. I don’t let myself.
Instead, I trail my hand back down, deliberately retreating, and she lets out a quiet, frustrated sound that nearly breaks me.
I kiss her again. Deeper now, fuller, pouring everything I’m holding back into the way my mouth moves against hers. Want. Restraint. The unspoken truth that this isn’t simply desire.
It’s connection.
I finally pull away and rest my forehead against hers, my breathing as unsteady as hers.
She’s shivering.
I cup her face again, thumbs brushing her cheeks, rooting both of us.
“We’ll take this slow,” I say quietly.
Her eyes meet mine, dark and honest. “I’d like that.”
I kiss her once more, then force myself to stop before I forget how.
She opens the door, glancing back at me once before stepping out.
