Page 69 of The Break Down

Koa’s fingers trace up and down my spine in slow, lazy strokes. His skin is damp. His chest rises and falls beneath my cheek like the rhythm of something ancient.

His heart.

Still thudding.

Maybe mine.

I hope it’s mine. Cause I know mine belongs to him.

Without a doubt.

Neither of us speaks for a while.

There’s just breathing. Skin on skin.

The distant hum of the air conditioner. And the way our legs are tangled together under the twisted sheets like we don’t remember where one of us ends and the other begins.

I swallow.

I should say something.

But what do you say after you’ve had your soul rocked out of your body and handed back to you by a man who looks like sin and sounds like your forever?

He shifts beneath me, just enough to kiss the top of my head.

“You alright?” he murmurs.

I nod.

Then I whisper, “Yeah. Just thinking.”

His chest stills. “About what?”

I pick at a wrinkle in the sheet, suddenly hyper-aware of how real this all feels.

How fast.

How deep.

How dangerous.

Because I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t plan to fall for someone who plays like a warrior and kisses like a poet.

Someone who makes me laugh and moan in the same breath.

But here I am.

And I am falling.

Hard.

I glance up at him. He’s watching me, eyes soft but stormy, like he’s bracing for me to bolt again.

So I do the scariest thing I can think of.

I tell him the truth.

“That felt like more than sex.”

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