I didn’t answer him immediately.
The apartment held its breath around us.
Shawn still had me locked against his chest, forehead pressed to mine, his hand trembling faintly where it cupped my jaw. Not from weakness. From restraint so absolute it looked painful — every muscle in his body coiled tight, fighting the overwhelming urge to pull me closer, to claim me, to remind both of us who I belonged to.
Behind us, Charles’s folder remained on the counter like a loaded weapon.
A clean exit.
Seventy-two hours outside Shawn’s radius.
Enough time to test whether this thing between us was love… or infrastructure.
Shawn’s breathing roughened as my silence stretched.
There it was again.
Not dominance.
Fear.
Real, unguarded fear.
“I’m still here,” I whispered finally.
His eyes closed.
The
