Isla’s POV
The living room was dimly lit, the only glow coming from the lamp in the corner and the faint city lights seeping through the blinds. The air between us felt heavy—charged with something I wasn’t sure either of us could control.
Marco stood a few steps away, hands shoved into his pockets, his jaw tight like he was fighting a battle within himself. I wasn’t any better. My heart pounded so hard I swore he could hear it, and I couldn’t seem to look away from him.
We shouldn’t be doing this.
“We should stop,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.
Marco’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t amusement—it was frustration. “Then tell me to go.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Instead of answering, I found myself taking a small step forward. Marco didn’t move away. His ey
