He turns toward me fully, eyes locking on mine. “Like the way someone looks when you almost lose them.”
My chest goes tight. “You didn’t.”
“Not for lack of trying.” We stare at each other for a long moment. The air hums with something both tense and tender. His eyes drift to my mouth before he looks away.
Peanut jumps back onto the bed, tail swishing through the space between us, and the spell breaks.
“Cockblocker,” Tiny mutters, deadpan.
I laugh too loud, too real. “Maybe she’s saving you from yourself.”
He grins, slow and crooked. “Wouldn’t be the first time a woman’s tried.”
“You saying you need saving?”
He leans in just enough that I can feel his breath on my cheek. “Not from you.”
The space between us lessens. My heart pounds. Every cell in my body yells,don’t ruin this, but the ache is overwhelming.
When he kisses me, it’s barely there at first. Warm, tentative, uncertain. His lips taste like coffee and smoke, mine like salt and something sweeter I can’t name.
He pulls back too soon, eyes searching mine like he’s afraid he crossed a line. “Sorry,” he murmurs.
“Don’t be.” My voice is low, unsteady. “Please don’t be.”
He pauses for a breath, then gently cups my jaw with one hand. His thumb slowly traces my lip with reverence. I can feel the restraint trembling through him.
“You sure?” Tiny whispers.
“Yes.” He kisses me again, deeper this time. Not rough, not demanding, just genuine. The kind of kiss that feels like a promise wrapped in an apology.
When he finally pulls away, his forehead presses against mine. We are both breathing too quickly.
“Guess Peanut didn’t save me after all,” he says, voice rough with humor that barely covers the tremor underneath.
I smile, brushing my thumb over the scar on his jaw. “Maybe she just picked her timing.”
He chuckles, soft and low, then straightens. “We should probably join the others before they start rumors.”
“Too late,” I whisper. “Trigger gossips worse than the Bunnies.”
That makes him laugh again, genuinely laugh, and the sound fills the room like sunlight. As he stands, I take his hand. “Tiny?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For more than just staying.”
He squeezes my fingers once before letting go. “You don’t owe me thanks, Syv. You owe yourself a chance.”
He leaves the door open behind him, and light streams in. Peanut crawls back onto my lap, purring as if she knows the world just shifted on its axis.
I sip my warm coffee and whisper into the quiet, “For me, not him.” I thumb open my phone, type a three-word text to Nadia, I’m checking in, and set a reminder for noon. Not a promise to Tiny, but a promise to myself. But when I touch my swollen lips, I’m not so sure.
The clubhouse smells of coffee and bacon, the unholy trinity that somehow feels like home here. By the time I make it out there, the common room is already loud.
I head into the kitchen to avoid the chaos for a few more minutes. Flipping on the light switch, I unlock the pantry door and step inside. I’m looking for some bread to make toast when Peanut meows loudly from the top of the shelf, like I disturbed her nap time. She gives me an exaggerated yawn before climbing to her feet.
“How did you…?” I blink up at her.