“You’re staying here,” I say instead.
Her brows raise with interest before a knowing smile curls her lips. “You stopped pretending you don’t want this.”
“I can’t pretend anymore. Nor do I want to.”
The silence stretches, comfortable and easy.
When the cat finishes eating, I gesture toward the living room. “Sit with me.”
We sit beside each other on the couch. I turn on the TV, not bothering to see what’s playing. I watch Mr. Pickles move around the room, sniffing at things, before he finally jumps up on the opposite couch.
But I’m acutely aware of Ivy beside me. I shift closer, feeling her warmth, her presence, and the steady rhythm of her breathing. Every nerve in my body hums with awareness.
I wrap my arm around her, pulling her against me. Her head is on my chest like it belongs there. I breathe in her hair.
On the exhale, I turn my face toward the TV.
The house settles around us. Her breathing slows, and she relaxes completely against me.
I don’t move, but my body is a live wire from her touch.
I turn my head and look at her. Really look. The soft curve of her mouth. The way her lashes cast shadows against her cheeks. The calm confidence in her posture. Her vanilla sugar scent is both familiar and maddening.
When I clear my throat, her eyes snap up to mine.
“I used to live by rules.”
She nods. “I know. I always wondered why you make rules you don’t want to follow.”
As soon as the question leaves her mouth, I realize she’s right. I don’t want them. I don’t need rules with her.
“You’re right.”
I lift one hand, sliding my knuckles beneath her chin, tilting her face up—gentle, controlled, unmistakable.
Her breath catches.
“No more rules.” My voice drops, the tone raspy.
My thumb brushes once along her jaw. Barely a touch. Enough to feel her warmth.
Slowly, I lower my head, closing the distance between us. My lips brush hers in a barely-there kiss before deepening it, feeling every curve of her mouth. She exhales, her hands gripping my sweatshirt like she needs me to steady her.
I moan against her lips, knowing I’m sliding into unfamiliar territory. I don’t do relationships. But I’m doing this with her.
The kiss saysI choose usmore clearly than any words could.
I force myself to pull back.
Her lips part, stunned and pleased all at once. Her smile comes next. Slow. Satisfied. Dangerous.
My chest feels tight, yet steady.
“Now that you’ve broken the rules, what happens next?”
I settle back against the couch, holding her in my arms. I shrug. “Whatever you want.”
She lays her head on my chest. A soft sigh escapes her. The sound is content. Like she knows she’s home.
