He didn’t rush.
He didn’t need to.
His movement were quiet, controlled-like he’d rehearsed them. Like standing in front of me half-dressed and terrified was something he’d always planned.
The leather gave a soft sigh beneath him as he rose, his hands sliding from his knees to his sides with calm purpose.
His suit didn’t wrinkle. His expression didn’t change. But the air did. It thickened. Tightened. Turned heavy enough to taste.
I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
The blanket felt fused to my skin, my fingers locked in place like letting go might mean giving him permission.
He took step.
Not loud.
But it landed inside me like thunder.
My heartbeat thumped so hard I felt it in my throat, but I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Didn’t let my eyes widen even though every cell in my body screamed
