Grayson
The kiss ended, but the air between us didn't settle. It thrummed, heavy, charged, alive.
Elena stumbled back a step, chest heaving, eyes wide. She looked at me as if I had just ripped open an old wound she'd spent stitching shut. Her lips were parted slightly, and it took every ounce of self-control for me not to pull her back.
“This was a mistake,” she whispered.
The words hit harder than they should have. Maybe because I could hear the lie underneath it, her eyes held the truth.
I didn't move closer, didn't reach for her, though every bone in me ached to. I want her hard, the way her hands trembled, the way her eyes darted everywhere but mine.
“Don't lie to yourself,” my voice came out raw, rougher than I intended.
Her breath hitched. She turned to leave, but I held her
