Page 73 of It Happened on a Sunday
I like the way he offers. No pressure and no expectations. Just the steady, quiet presence that permeates every interaction we have. So even though I’m not cold, I lean into him anyway, and immediately, everything inside of me exhales.
He smells like sandalwood and citrus and feels like sun-warmed stone. Solid. Real. Safe.
Above us, galaxies bloom into existence and constellations drift past like glitter on the wind. Below them, I sit beside this man who feels like gravity—strong enough to anchor me. Gentle enough to let me fly.
His arm brushes against my shoulders.
My hair dances over his fingertips.
Our legs softly touch.
Until the space between us feels electric. Incandescent. Like starlight trapped in the time between one heartbeat and the next. Everything in me tuned to everything in him.
I don’t know what makes me turn.
Maybe it’s the colors swirling around us or the sound of his breathing, gentle and steady in the darkness.
Maybe it’s the ache deep inside me, low and warm and hurting in all the right ways.
Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the little voice whispering that if I don’t move now, if I don’t grab onto this moment, I’ll miss something that could changeeverything. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time, and on another day with another man, I’d never take the risk.
But this is Sly, who looks at me like I’m as infinite as the universe spinning out above our heads.
So I do it. I turn, only to find he’s already watching me. And the look in his eyes isn’t a question. It’s a promise, one I want so desperately to believe in. So for the second time today, but for a very different reason, I lean into him and brush his lips withmine.
Chapter 32
Sloane
For one brief moment, the universe stops.
Galaxies stop forming, constellations stop spinning, and even the stars themselves stop burning.
For one brief moment, it’s just him and me and the gentle warmth growing between us—the kind that could light up even the darkness that’s been living inside of me for so long.
And then Sly’s arm slides around me and everything starts turning again.
Our kiss is featherlight at first. So soft it feels like a wish. Like a plea. Like a moment where he’s not him and I’m not me and the world isn’t all the terrible things I know it to be. And then even that slips away and all that’s left is this one perfect moment in a sky—an infinity—of imperfections.
The slide of his lips against mine.
The brush of his fingers through my hair.
The press of his hand against my back as our breaths stutter, flutter, then sync like we were always meant to be here. And when his other hand comes up to cradle my cheek, something deep inside me splinters. Not in a way that hurts, but in a way that finally—finally—lets in the light.
His fingers skate across the line of my jaw like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he presses too hard, and with every stroke I feel myself unraveling a little more. His mouth moves against mine, tentative at first, then deeper and slower, like he wants to memorize me. Or maybe I’m the one memorizing him.
The sweet taste of mandarin sugar on his tongue. The rich smell of sandalwood on his skin. The all-encompassing heat ofhim enveloping me.
He’s the first person I’ve let touch me like this in so long I’d almost forgotten what it feels like. Not just the kiss but everything that comes with it—the trust, the vulnerability, the terrifying hope that maybe, just maybe, I’m not as broken as I thought.
I don’t want it to stop. I don’t wantSlyto stop. How could I when this big, strong, powerful man is holding me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever touched?
He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push, doesn’t demand. Instead, he leans into me with a quiet reverence—not like I’m something to worship but like I’m something to wait for.
And somehow, it’s that gentle patience that undoes me more than anything else ever has.
My fingers slide up his back to tug at his hair, and I angle my body closer, chasing the warmth of him, the calm steadiness in his kiss. He pulls me more tightly against him, tugging me into his chest until there’s nothing between us but heat and stars and a whole host of things I’ve never dared to want.
