Page 64 of Beautiful Ruins
I poured two mugs without asking him how he took his.I already knew.
The sound of footsteps made my shoulders tighten before I could stop myself.
Then I remembered where I was.
He entered the kitchen noiselessly, the same way he did everything.His hair was still slightly damp, the sleeves of his dark shirt rolled back just enough to reveal the ink and muscle and scar tissue beneath.One day, I hope he would tell me about his scars.
He watched me for a second before he stepped closer.
I could feel him before he touched me.The heat of him.The way the air settled when he moved behind me.
I reached for his mug at the same moment he did.
His arm came around me, reaching past my shoulder for the cup.
Too close.
My breath caught.
His chest brushed my back.Not intentionally.Close proximity.It sent a current through me that made my pulse spike.
He didn’t step away.
His hand closed around the mug, but instead of retreating, he stayed there.One arm braced on the counter beside me.The other holding the cup.Caging me in.
My heart stuttered.I was trapped.Exactly where I wanted to be.
I could feel the solid line of him at my back.The steady rise and fall of his chest.The tension humming just beneath his skin.
He lowered his head slightly, breath ghosting near my ear.
And then he stopped.He made no further move.He just… waited.
I realized something in that stillness.He wasn’t going to take from me.If anything happened next, it would be because I chose it.
My pulse roared in my ears.He’d been so careful.Even in his bedroom this morning, he’d kept a distance I hadn’t requested but understood.But I didn’t want distance.
I turned slowly in the space he’d created.We were impossibly close now.My back was to the counter.His body angled toward mine.His hand still braced beside me.
His eyes searched my face.Questioning.Always asking without words.
My mouth felt dry.
He wouldn’t move first.He needed to know.So it was up to me.
I rose onto my toes and closed the space between us.My lips brushed his.For a split second, he didn’t move.Then he did.His mouth softened against mine, warm and deliberate.Unrushed.Not hungry.
His lips were softer than I expected.Pillowy, slow, tasting faintly of mint and something distinctly him.
The world narrowed to that single point of contact.Butterflies exploded in my stomach, wild and electric.A slow heat coiled low in my belly, unfamiliar and thrilling and terrifying all at once.
He kissed like he meant it.Like every movement of his mouth carried weight.
One of his hands came up, fingers threading into my hair.He held me there, not forcing, just anchoring.
I melted.I didn’t know any other word for it.I melted into him.
My hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt.I pressed closer without meaning to.A soft sound slipped from my throat into his mouth before I could stop it.
