Christian cupped Mia's face gently, his thumb brushing along the curve of her cheek, his fingers smoothing over her brow like he was committing her to memory. He stared into her eyes with a softness that stole the air from her lungs.
"Do you really want this?" he asked, his voice husky, barely above a whisper.
Mia didn’t answer with words. Her lips met his in a kiss that trembled with hunger and heat. That was her answer—a kiss that wasn’t soft, but certain. She poured everything into it: confusion, need, pain, longing. He responded just as fiercely, his hands roaming her back like he needed to feel every breath she took.
But then, something shifted.
Christian broke the kiss and stepped back. His breath trembled, and his hands dropped from her body as if letting go of something sacred.
