The house felt different without him beside me.
Not empty… just quieter. Too quiet.
I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, my fingers unconsciously brushing over my lips. They still tingled from that desperate, hungry kiss in the kitchen — the way his hands had gripped my waist like he never wanted to let go, the low groan that had vibrated through his chest, the heat of his body pressed so tightly against mine. My heart refused to calm down, replaying every second.
I buried my face into the pillow, a small smile breaking through despite myself.
“What is wrong with me…” I whispered.
I had seen a new side of Vincent tonight — raw, unrestrained, completely focused on me. But now the house felt too still, and the empty space beside me felt louder than it should.
I sat up, glancing at
