Penelope's POV:
When I'm not staring into his eyes, my tongue can form words and speak them out loud.
“You have a beautiful place,” Vincent says the moment he steps into the house. His tone is dry, and he doesn't seem to find the space beautiful at all.
“Thanks. I decorated it,” I reply and turn to him. I find him staring at me and I quickly look away. “Coffee?”
He sits on the couch, his legs and arms spread out without a care in the world. “That would be lovely, thank you.”
Our house is not small by any chance. But being in here with Vincent makes the place seem smaller. Cramped. Hard to breathe in. As if he's taking up the entire space just by sitting on the couch. He's a large man, sure. Tall and well built. But it's not just his size. It's as if even his shadow has weight.
It
