I shivered, the words stirring something raw and unspoken inside me. I wanted him. God, I wanted him in ways I didn’t dare admit.
He exhaled and ran a hand over his face. His eyes softened for a heartbeat, vulnerability flickering across sharp features. “Damn it, Mel. I hate that I want this. Hate that I feel like I can’t walk away, can’t leave you alone. But I can’t. Not when you’re right here, tempting me with every breath you take.”
“I’m not tempting you,” I whispered. My fingers tightened in my lap, betraying the lie.
“You are,” he said, low and certain, stepping back just enough to give me space while keeping the tension raw. “And I’m not about to pretend I don’t notice it.”
The room felt small, charged, alive. My pulse roared, chest tight, nerves screaming. I wanted to reach for
