Page 122 of Midnight Between Us
We don’t speak.There’s nothing left to explain.
We’ve been circling this for weeks.
Maybe longer.
And this time, neither of us is pulling away.
ChapterSixty
Keir
There’sno rush when you’re touching something sacred.
Simone is in my arms, and for the first time in years, the world doesn’t feel like it’s slipping away from me.The noise fades.The ache in my chest fades.Her arms are around my neck like she’s been here all along—like I’ve finally come home.
I carry her into the house, her legs wrapped around my waist with a familiarity that undoes me.She exhales against my throat, and it sends a shiver down my spine.I could stop here and take her against the wall, but that’s not what this is about.
So, I don’t pause.I don’t fumble.I go to the room I never let myself step into now, hers.
We’re not tearing at each other.There’s no frantic edge to this.No undoing each other in haste.I want to feel this.Every second of it.Every layer she sheds, I want to meet it with reverence, with love.
I set her down gently, our foreheads touching.She’s breathing hard, but it’s not nerves.It’s everything else—wanting, remembering, breaking a little, and hoping we can build something in the space that breaks open.
I cup her face.Her skin is warm.She’s here right in front of me.And somehow, despite everything I broke, she’s letting me touch her again.
My thumbs trace her jaw, my mouth brushing over hers like a secret.I want to go slow.I want her to know this isn’t just lust.This is years of yearning condensed into one trembling breath.
“You okay?”I ask, voice barely more than a whisper.
She nods.Her eyes search mine like she’s still trying to decide if I’m real.
She doesn’t speak.She doesn’t have to.
Her hands are in my hair, pulling me closer to her.Her mouth finds mine with a tenderness that splits me wide open.It’s not new, but it’s different.It’s not a kiss that asks.It’s one that remembers.That says, We’ve been here before, and we’re still here, but this time better.
She parts her lips, and I meet her there—deeper, slower.My mouth lingers at the corner of hers, trailing lower to the spot beneath her jaw that used to make her breath hitch.I kiss her like I’m making a vow in silence.Like I’ve been waiting for this exact moment since the last one slipped away.
She tastes like cinnamon and something bittersweet, like everything I’ve been afraid to need.Her fingers tangle in my hair, a desperate tug that tells me I’m not the only one unraveling.Not the only one pretending this means less than it does.
I slide my hand along her waist, slow and reverent until my fingers brush the edge of her sweater.Her breath catches again—soft, involuntary.She’s not saying no.She’s not saying anything.But her body arches closer, her hips finding mine like they remember something we never said out loud.
“You sure?”My voice is low, hoarse.I won’t push.I can’t afford to get this wrong.
She nods, barely.“Don’t make me beg.”
Fuck.That does something to me.
I take my time, like I’m peeling back something sacred.Her sweater slips over her head, and she shivers—not from the chill, but from letting me look.The vulnerability of letting me see her like this again.She doesn’t cover herself.She lets me look.Lets me see the faint marks from time and the way her skin flushes when I drag my palm from her ribs to the dip of her waist.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper because she is.Not in a curated, filtered way.But the quiet, heartbreaking kind that makes a man ache in all places.The kind that makes you need.
She scoffs, a small, disbelieving sound.“You need your eyes checked.”
“Then I’ll keep telling you the truth,” I murmur, brushing my mouth against her collarbone.“Until you see it—until you believe it.”
Her laugh is tight.“You always were a stubborn bastard.”
“Still am.”
