Belle***
I can still feel the ghost of his lips on mine—warm, firm, and everything I didn’t know I needed. My heart races as I look at him, the tension between us thick enough to choke me. His eyes... those deep, conflicted eyes that seem to look right through me and see everything I’m too afraid to say. I don’t know why he’s holding back, and it’s driving me insane.
“Jake,” I whisper, stepping closer to him, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and longing. “Don’t push me away. Please.”
His hands come up, not to touch me, but to hold me at bay. The warmth of his palms hovers near my arms, and the restraint in his touch only makes me ache more. “Belle,” he says, his voice strained, as if speaking the words is a battle he’s barely winning. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for.”
