Page 94 of Sinfully Yours

She chews aggressively. "Still time."

I shake my head, sitting beside her.

For a long moment, neither of us speaks. The silence is thick, but it's not uncomfortable. It's charged. It's something else.

Then, out of nowhere, I exhale. "I hate waiting."

Ava tilts her head at me. "Yeah?"

I drag a hand down my face. "I like control. Knowing the next step. But this?" I shake my head, my mouth pulling into a grim line. "This is chaos."

She snorts. "Welcome to my world."

My eyes flick to hers. "And yet, you're handling it."

She rolls her eyes. "Barely."

"More than barely." My voice is steady. Certain. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Ava."

She stills, like she wasn't expecting that. Like she doesn't know what to do with the truth when it's laid bare in front of her.

And then, instead of deflecting with humor, she says, "I feel safe with you."

My fingers twitch at my sides.

Her voice is softer now, quieter. "Even in all of this. Even with the threats, the danger, the insane high-stakes Bond villain nonsense we're dealing with… I feel safe with you."

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. She doesn't know what that does to me. How badly I want to be that for her.

She reaches for me then—slowly, hesitantly. Her fingers brush against mine, testing, waiting. I don't pull away.

Instead, I lift a hand and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, my knuckles grazing her cheek.

"Ava," I murmur.

And just like that, the air shifts.

She leans in first.

I meet her halfway.

The kiss starts slow—like neither of us is sure we're allowed to take this step. But the moment our lips touch, hesitation shatters.

Her hands slide up my chest, fingers fisting in the fabric of my shirt, pulling me closer. I grip her waist, steadying her, deepening the kiss until she's gasping against my mouth.

No pretending. No playing.

Just us.

Ava shifts, pressing closer, and I lose my grip on control. My hands slide over her back, then lower, gripping her hips as I push her down against the bed.

She exhales a soft, shuddering breath.

My lips find the curve of her jaw, the delicate line of her throat. I feel her swallow, feel the pulse thrumming beneath my mouth.

"Tell me to stop," I murmur against her skin, "and I will."

She shudders. "Don't. Don't stop."

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