His hand threads through my hair, pulling me in further.
Okay, maybe after the next kiss. Or maybe… maybe once he looks at me the way he did when he first walked in.
The way I hope he still does.
His hands find my waist, his breath uneven against my jaw.
“God, Cece, Cece, myCece,” he murmurs, voice rasped, low.
I love it when he calls me his Cece. Because it pileson top of his sweet actions that are slowly making me believe that his love is not because of the clause. But despite it.
Those actions have been disappearing, Cece,my traitorous brain reminds me.
He lifts me easily, mouth still tracing down my neck, the world shrinking to the press of his skin and the quiet catch of my breath. We stumble, chuckle softly, half in rhythm, half in urgency, until my back meets my bed.
He looks at me for a long moment, brushing a thumb across my cheekbone, eyes darker than I’ve ever seen, even in the dim lights of my bedroom.
I’m suddenly dreading that he’ll end up saying it first again. And I’ll miss this short window of opportunity, disappointing both me and him.
“God, I’ve missed this. Why does it feel like it’s been forever?” he whispers, forehead pressing to mine before his lips are on mine again.
My heart pounds so hard I feel it in my fingertips. My resolve to say those three little words drowning out his lust-filled mumblings.
Say it, Cece. Just say it.
But they tangle somewhere between my throat and fear.
He leans back again, his gaze locked with mine—steady, almost searching. “Tell me you love me,” he says quietly.
I blink, breath caught. For a second, I think I’ve imagined it. But no, his eyes are intently waiting.
He knows me. He knows I hesitate. He knows how my mind turns everything into analysis and risk. And so he’s asking.
He knows I love him,I tell myself. He must know.Right?
But the silence stretches long enough for that unwarranted unease to creep back in my veins, and he repeats it. Softly but firmly. “Say it, Cece. Say‘I love you, Levi.’Say it.”
My pulse thrums under his commanding tone, like it’s trying to break free. Why am I hesitating? I love him, I do. So why does my throat burn like it’s betrayal?
Because he hasn’t said it, not since that night. Because maybe I’m scared he won’t mean it anymore.
I close my eyes, push past the tremor in my voice. Clutching his hand tightly, I finally whisper, “I love you, Levi.” The words feel like surrender, like diving without knowing if he’ll catch me.
He exhales, eyes dark with something I can’t quite read, and then—there’s no more talking. Only touch, sweat, and breath. A rush of everything I’d missed and everything I’m terrified to lose.
He squeezes his eyes shut, and I feel him entering me. My world starting to suddenly make sense.
When it’s over, the room is quiet. The city hums faintly through the window. His breathing evens beside me as sleep takes over him. And that’s when I realize, he never caught me.
He never said it back.
SEVEN
Levi
Taewon’s quiet voice cuts through the noise in my head. “You’re breathing too hard.”
I blink, grounding myself in the present—and right into the hard look he’s been wearing for weeks. I can’t blame him. I’ve been short with everyone lately.
