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ELEANOR
Dante’s gaze was intense, filled with emotions that had been building for what felt like an eternity. I stood across from him, my expression a mixture of confusion and something I couldn’t quite place—perhaps fear, perhaps hope.
I had put up walls for so long, walls that Dante had tried to break through time and time again, and now we stood there, tension crackling between them like a live wire.
Without warning, Dante took a decisive step forward, closing the distance between us in an instant. His hands found my waist, gripping me firmly yet gently, as though he were afraid I might slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough.
His eyes met mine for a fleeting second, silently asking for permission, before he tilted his head down and pressed his lips to mine.
The kis
