Page 108 of Untamed

“You still shouldn’t have stayed.”

“And yet,” she whispers, “I’m still here.”

There’s a pause. A long one. My eyes flick down to her mouth, then back up.

“You shouldn’t be,” I say finally, but the words lack bite. They sound like a plea more than a warning.

“You said that last night,” she murmurs. “Didn’t work then either.”

My eyes close for a second. I’m fighting something. A thought. A truth I don’t want to say out loud.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admit, the words barely audible.

“Do what?”

My hand lifts, slow, tentative, and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Let someone stay.”

She lets out a quivering breath.

“I’m not asking for forever,” she whispers, her hand brushing over mine. “Just the morning, so I know you’re okay, then I’ll go.”

I don’t move. Don’t breathe. Because somehow, this moment feels fragile. Like one wrong move on my part will send me retreating behind those impenetrable walls again.

Her fingers lift before her voice does. She reaches out, and I expect her to draw away, but instead, she touches me. Lightly.Hesitantly. Her fingertips graze my jaw, skimming along the stubble and down the side of my throat. I feel everything in me tense beneath that gentle contact.

She brushes the pad of her thumb across the corner of my mouth.

And I can’t help it, I reach up and catch her hand, holding her wrist between my fingers. Not to stop her. Not really. Just to feel her.

We stare at each other. No distance or shadows. Just breath and heat, and the tremble of something unspoken curling between us.

“You never let anyone get close, do you?” she whispers.

I don’t answer. I just look at her mouth as she speaks, the way her lips part around the words. My body aches with the need to close the space, to taste her again.

It’s like she reads my mind because she leans in, only slightly, but enough that her breath grazes mine. Her lashes flutter, her eyes are wide and uncertain.

“But you let me?” she asks, so quietly I nearly miss it.

I close my eyes. Just for a second. Because I don’t know how not to when she touches me like that.

When I open them again, she’s still there, still burning holes through me with that gaze that feels like salvation and damnation wrapped in one. And now every part of me that’s supposed to be cold... is starting to burn.

“Ogni parte di me ti cerca, anche quando non voglio, bambina.” I murmur back, barely audible. I know she doesn’t understand me, but she looks at me like she does.

Every part of me reaches for you, even when I don’t want it to, baby girl.

I hear her breath catch and her fingers tighten around mine.

And I know neither of us need to say anything else. I close my eyes for a breath.

Fuck. I’m slipping.

My hand finds her cheek. Her skin is warm, soft. She draws in a quiet breath as I stroke the side of her face, my fingers skimming down to trace the curve of her jaw. Her touch follows, light as air, her fingertips dancing along my face. One drifts lightly across my lips, and I stop breathing.

She leans in. I do too. Our lips are less than a breath apart.

And then, a loud crash. Metal on stone, sharp and final.

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