Gage
She was drawing me in like a moth to a f*****g flame. The way she chuckled, the way she smiled—like she didn’t even mean to, like it slipped out despite herself. It was breathtaking. So goddamn f*****g gorgeous it hurt to look at her and not touch her.
And I needed more. I needed everything. Which was why I was waiting just beyond the trees, hidden where the firelight couldn’t reach, praying to God she would follow me. That she’d make the choice to come in here and give me what I wanted most—time. Just a few minutes alone with her. No distractions. No one else but us.
We’d been around each other more, cooking in that tiny, half-broken kitchen—laughing over burst chicken and pasta that could barely stick to the wall. She’d even started running faster in the mornings. Not my pace yet
