Page 10

My hands clench around my coffee mug. "Stop."

She blinks at me, surprised by my tone.

"You don't need to be smaller," I say, the words coming out like gravel. "You don't need to be different. That guy? He's the one who wasn't enough."

Color floods her cheeks, and something shifts in her expression. Something that makes my heart pound against my ribs like it's trying to escape.

"I don't want to be alone," she whispers, and the words hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning.

Before I can stop myself, I'm moving toward her.

She stands as I approach, and suddenly we're too close. I can see the flecks of gray in her blue eyes, count the freckles across her nose, feel the warmth radiating from her body.

My hand moves of its own accord, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her skin is soft under my callused fingers, and she leans into the touch like a cat seeking warmth.

The contrast between us is stark—my rough, work-hardened hand against her delicate features. But somehow, it feels right.

"Vincent," she breathes, and my name on her lips is almost my undoing.

The storm crashes outside, but in here, time seems to stop. We're suspended in this moment, teetering on the edge of something that could either save us or destroy us completely.

Her hand comes up to rest against my chest, right over my heart, and I know she can feel how hard it's beating. How much she affects me, despite all my walls, all my promises to myself about staying alone, staying safe.

The heat between us is undeniable now, crackling like the lightning outside.

But it's more than just physical attraction. There's something else here, something deeper that scares the hell out of me even as it draws me in.

I should step back. Should maintain the distance that's kept me sane these past years. Should remember every lesson I learned about letting people in.

But as I look down at her upturned face, at the trust and want in her eyes, I realize it's too late for “should”. I'm already falling, and all I can do now is hope she's strong enough to catch us both.

Another crack of thunder shakes the cabin, and she startles, pressing closer to me. My arms come around her automatically, protectively, and the way she fits against me feels like coming home.

We stand there, barely breathing, both aware that whatever happens next will change everything.

Her fingers are still splayed against my chest, and I can feel her heartbeat echoing through her palm into my skin.

"Vincent?" she whispers, and my name on her lips breaks something loose inside me.

I cup her face in my hands, my callused thumbs brushing her cheekbones. Her skin is soft, so damn soft, and she leans into my touch like she's been waiting for it. Like she trusts me completely.

The weight of that trust should terrify me, but instead, it steadies me.

When I lower my head to hers, she meets me halfway. The first brush of our lips is gentle, questioning. A test of boundaries, of this fragile thing growing between us.

She makes a small sound in the back of her throat, something between a sigh and a whimper, and my control splinters.

I kiss her properly then, still gentle but with purpose, learning the shape of her mouth, the sweetness of her taste.

Her hands slide up my chest to curl around my neck, fingers threading through my hair, and the simple touch sends electricity down my spine.

She responds with a shy eagerness that makes my chest ache, pressing closer, fitting herself against me like she was made to be there.

There's no urgency in this kiss, no desperate need to claim or possess.

Instead, there's something deeper, more profound. Every sweep of my tongue against hers feels like a promise. Every soft gasp she makes feels like coming home.

When we finally break apart, she keeps her eyes closed for a moment, her lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed. Beautiful. So goddamn beautiful it hurts to look at her.