The kiss lingered longer than I expected.
Not because he deepened it or pulled me closer—he didn’t—but because neither of us rushed to pull away. My lips stayed against his, soft and unhurried, like we were both afraid that moving too fast might shatter whatever fragile thing had settled between us. His hands remained steady at my waist, warm and grounding, holding me there like I belonged exactly where I was.
When we finally separated, it was slow, reluctant. His forehead rested against mine again, his breath uneven now, no longer perfectly controlled.
“Ali,” he murmured, and this time my name sounded different in his mouth. Not careful. Not restrained. Something softer had crept in around the edges.
I smiled faintly, my hands still fisted lightly in the fabric of his shirt. “You keep
