“Charlotte,” I say again, kneeling as I reach down to touch her shoulder.
She shifts under my hand.
“Ah, Dane?—”
My hand stills.
Her eyes open slowly. She blinks up at me, still not fully there.
“You’re okay. It was just a bad dream.”
She looks at me for a second, blinking. “It wasn’t a bad dream.” Then she sits up. “It was a really good dream.”
“Sorry for waking you then. It sounded like you were having a nightmare.”
What kind of dream would make her say my name the way she did?
Before I can ask, her hand comes up, sliding behind my neck, and she pulls me down.
My hand hits the mat beside her to steady myself, the space between us collapsing in an instant.
And then her mouth is on mine.
I freeze. For a single, fractured second, everything in me stops. My thoughts scatter, nothing lining up, nothing making sense.
And for a brief, dizzy moment, all I can do is feel it—the shock of it, the pull of it, the impossible weight of something I’ve spent so long refusing to even think about.
Her fingers tighten in my hair, and the kiss is nothing like anything I ever let myself imagine. There’s no hesitation in it. No uncertainty. She kisses me like she’s already decided—like she knows exactly what she wants.
Heat surges through me, sudden and overwhelming, too much to contain.
Something in me gives way. Years of distance, of shutting things down before they could take shape, of refusing to even think about her like this. It all snaps at once.
My chest tightens, my pulse slamming hard enough to make me dizzy. Beneath it, something deeper stirs—hunger, old and buried, starved enough to feel dangerous now that it’s awake.
Then her hand shifts at the back of my neck, her thumb brushing against my skin, and the feeling hits harder.
My cock reacts before I can stop it, before I can even think. Desire drops low and suddenly I’m aware of everything—how close we are, how easily she could feel exactly what she’s doing to me.
How little control I have left.
Want coils tightly. And it’s made worse by the fact that she’s pulling me closer.
I kiss her back. There’s no decision in it. No restraint. My hand slides into her hair, fingers tightening at the nape of her neck as I pull her closer.
There’s too much in it—too much need, too much I’ve kept buried for too long.
She lets out a soft moan against my mouth, and it hits me harder than anything else.
Everything in me tightens. The feeling deepens and sharpens. I can’t think past it—not past the warmth of her, the way she moves against me, the way she holds on like she doesn’t want me to pull away.
Whatever control I had left is gone.
The kiss shifts, deepening without either of us holding back. My mouth moves against hers with an urgency I can’t hide anymore. It’s messy and intense—years of silence breaking all at once.
Her tongue brushes mine, and the sensation hits harder this time. She makes another quiet sound, and it goes straight through me.
My grip in her hair tightens without thinking as I shift closer, the space between us gone. The press of her against me, the warmth of her breath, the way her fingers hold me there—it’s overwhelming, and still not enough.
