Page 154 of Let Me In

And looks.

The shirt swallows me.

Soft plaid hanging past my thighs, sleeves a little too long. The collar is askew from where I’ve leaned into him all night. Bare legs. Damp curls. Skin still flushed from his touch.

His gaze moves over me—slow, full of heat.

But not hungry.

Just anchored.

Like this is a sight he never wants to forget.

His breath catches. Barely.

And he murmurs it—

Low.

Almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud:

“Jesus.”

I blink up at him.

“What?”

He swallows.

But his eyes don’t leave me.

Not even for a second.

His voice is deeper when he speaks again.

“This is mine now.”

My breath stutters, caught somewhere between awe and want. A shiver runs down my spine, and something deep inside me clenches, hungry for that claim.

I feel it everywhere. In my stomach, in my chest, between my legs, a thrum of warmth and something deeper.

He steps forward again, hands on my hips, and pulls me close.

“You’re mine.”

The words sink into the silence between us like they’ve always belonged there—low and irrevocable, like something that reshapes the space around us. My breath stutters, and without meaning to, I lean just slightly closer—drawn by the gravity of his claim.

He holds me there for a beat longer.

My bare legs against his jeans. My chest rising slowly under the weight of his flannel. His hands warm at my waist.

I feel it in him—the tension.

Not directed at me.

Not even fully in the room.

Just coiled.

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