Page 81 of Holly Ever After

The weight of the moment hangs heavy between us, charged and electric. Neither of us moves, caught in a silent dance.

I think about getting up, but I can’t move. I’m pinned under the weight of his stare. Then he walks over to the edge of the bed, staring down at me. I swear I forget how to breathe.

He looks tired, and for once, I don’t want to tease him about it. I want to reach out and ease away the line between his brows with my fingers.

He tips his chin. “Move over, Squirt.”

My eyes go wide before his words register, and I move over on the bed. He flops down, his forearm resting over his eyes. The mattress dips and my body presses to his side.

Minutes pass, neither of us speaking. I think he’s fallen asleep just before he speaks up. “Thanks for getting the place ready. Your mom is showing her around. She loves it.”

I swallow the urge to reach out and touch him. “It’s no problem. How is she doing?”

He shrugs. “Doctors still need to do some tests, but it’s definitely her memory. At least now we can get the help she needs.”

“I’m sorry, Sean.”

He doesn’t reply but drops his hand and stares up at the ceiling. His fingertips brush mine. I try my best not to react to the burn.

His eyes are on my face, but I refuse to look at him. I can’t. I’m too afraid of what I’ll see. I even try to resist when he takes my chin and tilts my face to the side. I keep my eyes on the ceiling.

“Look at me, Holl.”

Inhaling, I hold my breath and look at him. I keep looking. We still don’t speak.

I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. I wait for him to acknowledge that things have changed and we’re the only ones to blame, but he doesn’t.

A part of me wants to shout at him. A bigger part of me wants to feel his mouth on mine again.

I know we only have minutes if we’re lucky before the bubble we’ve created pops.

It’s probably best to do it now so I know when it’s coming. “I should go.”

His eyes drop to my lips. “No, you shouldn’t.”

Before I can process the weight of his words, his fingers tighten gently on my chin, pulling my face closer to his. There's a hint of desperation in his eyes, a silent plea for understanding, for connection. But there's also that familiar fire, the one that always danced between us, threatening to consume everything in its path.

His breath ghosts over my face, and for a split second, the world outside this room ceases to exist. As our faces inch closer, the tension becomes palpable, a tangible force pressing on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

His breath is on my skin, his warmth seeping into me like a drug. My body is screaming at me to stay, to give in to the temptation. But my mind is telling me to run, to get out of here before it's too late.

“We can’t do this.”

“I know,” he replies but he’s getting closer. “I fucking know we can’t.”

He kisses me anyway, my objections quickly forgotten as his mouth finds mine. It feels foreign and familiar all at once. It’s the most delicious burn.

We're both drowning in a sea of emotions, an undertow of need and desperation pulling us further in. His hands cup my face, holding me still, as if he's afraid I'll pull away. But there's no chance of that. Not when every cell in my body is gravitating towards him, not when every past grievance seems insignificant in comparison to this moment.

His lips are soft but demanding, tasting faintly of coffee and a hint of mint. They move over mine, coaxing, teasing, until I'm completely lost in the sensation. There's no thinking, no analyzing, just pure, raw feeling. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, deepening the kiss, and I groan in response, letting go of all restraint.

His hands leave my face, traveling down to my waist, pulling me closer to him. I can feel the hard planes of his chest against mine, the rapid beat of his heart matching my own. My fingers clutch at his shirt, needing something to anchor me, to ground me, because everything feels so overwhelmingly intense.

But as quickly as the moment escalated, reality crashes back in. The weight of the situation, the consequences of our actions, everything he said, and everything he didn’t. It all floods back. I pull away first, gasping for air, my eyes wide as they meet his equally dazed ones.

“We can't,” I whisper again, my voice shaky.

Sean nods, his face flushed, eyes clouded with lust and confusion. “I know. I'm sorry.”

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