As my back hits the bed gently, I stop breathing. My focus is on Jude—on our proximity, on the way his breath fans across my face. My heart races, body tensing beneath him, but I don’t want to move away. I don’t want him to move away.
I want to stay in this moment forever.
Jude blinks, hesitation flashing across his face as he starts to push himself up, misreading my silence. “Evie—”
I reach out, gripping the front of his T-shirt before he can retreat. “I’m nervous,” I whisper, my fingers curling tighter into the fabric, “but I want this.”
His eyes darken, searching mine for any trace of doubt. The weight of his body is still half-suspended over me, muscles taut like he’s prepared to pull away at the slightest sign of reluctance. I don’t give him that sign. I tug him closer, urging him
