Author's pov
He wasnβt afraid of wanting you. He was afraid of losing you and that made the way he held you feel even more intense.
His thumb lingered on your lower lip, pressing just enough to tilt your chin upward. His eyes searched yours, not for permission exactly, but for confirmation. For understanding.
You didnβt pull away.
That was all it took.
His mouth came down on yours, not gentle, not hesitant. It was a kiss fueled by everything heβd been holding back across the room. Jealousy. Want. The sharp, primal relief of knowing you were still here, still with him.
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