Page 48 of Desperate Crimes
She sucks in a shaky breath, then I press my lips to her earlobe.
I whisper, “This was always going to happen.”
Her entire body is trembling, shaking now.
I imagine her lips parted, her eyes wide, trying to see me through the dark but unable to.
“Why me?” she asks. “Why like this?”
She doesn’t understand yet.
But she will.
I let my voice fall, low and reverent.
“Because you were meant to be mine. And deep down you know it, too.”
I don’t touch her.
I don’t kiss her.
Not yet.
But I could.
The space between us is alive. Burning.
And she’s already starting to surrender.
Not with her words.
Not yet.
But with every trembling breath, she’s getting closer.
To me.
To the truth.
And soon?
She’ll never want to leave.
But I can't hold back anymore.
I came in here planning to wait. To watch. To speak to her in shadows, let the fear simmer just a little longer. Let the idea of me take root and twist inside her.
But the second I hear her body shifting on my bed like her skin is suddenly too tight, like she is already aching for answers—I know. It’s gonna happen right now.
My control snaps like a fraying wire.
I move without thought.
My hand reaches out in the dark, and the second my fingertips brush her ankle—skin to skin—I swear the air crackles.
She gasps.
Freezes.
