Page 141 of Mine Again
Yet.
It’s been hell not to.
The night I brought her home, I got carried away. That’s not like me, but I couldn’t help it. She responded like I still had a claim on her, like her body remembered even if her mind refused. And maybe that was all I needed.
The urge to feel her after so long, to mark her, was overwhelming. But since then, I’ve been giving her space. Letting her breathe. Waiting for her to come to me. She will. It’s only a matter of time.
And while I wait, I’m not above enjoying what I already have. Her attention. Her pull. The way her body still reacts to mine.
So I take another slow step toward her, savoring the way her breath hitches. She doesn’t back away again, but her fingers tighten aroundthe cup she’s holding like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered.
She came here looking for more answers. That much is clear.
But the questions can wait.
Right now, I’m more interested in the way her gaze keeps flicking between my chest and my face, like she can’t decide which is more dangerous.
She used to look at me like that all the time. Like I was fire, and the burn was worth it.And God help me, I want her to burn again.
“You’re quiet,” I say, reaching for the towel draped over the equipment beside her. I drag it across my chest slowly, giving her a better view of the ink she’s trying not to stare at. “That’s not like you.”
Still, she says nothing. Just drinks me in with those eyes like I’m something she swore off but suddenly wants another taste of.
So I step closer.
Close enough to feel the tension humming beneath her skin. Close enough to catch the faintest tremble in her fingers.
“Is this where you slap me?” I murmur, my voice low. “Or kiss me?”
She doesn’t answer.
Her gaze lifts to mine, and for a second, I swear she’s going to close the distance.
My littlefarfalla’slips part, her breath shallow. Her body shifts toward me, drawn like a magnet.
I lower my head.
Just a little.
Just enough.
One heartbeat more and our mouths will touch.
Her eyes flick to my lips, her fingers twitching at her side.
She wants this. She wantsme.
The air crackles, thick and electric. The pull between us is undeniable, stronger than it’s ever been.
Give in, farfalla. Give in.
But she blinks, and the moment fractures.
Her gaze drops to my chest. Her shoulders rise with a shaky breath, like she’s trying to gather the pieces of herself I just scattered.
Hesitating for a moment, she lifts her hand and presses it over my heart. Right over the ink that bears her name.
My skin tightens under her touch.
