They stayed like that for a long time. Breathing hard. Eyes wild.
Like he'd been holding everything in for too long and it had finally snapped.
"Eliana," he said, voice thick, wrecked.
She turned to him, back against the wall, heart pounding in her chest—but she didn't meet his eyes. She looked away instead, unsure, breath caught between want and fear. She didn't know if she could let him take her now, not when so much between them was still uncertain. Not when her heart was so exposed and raw.
"El, please," he whispered, his voice barely holding together as his hands slid down her sides, caressing slow and tender. His fingers traced the curve of her ribs, dipping under her shirt, brushing against the band of her bra. He wasn't rushing, his eyes trained on her.
Each movement teasing, deliberate, reverent. She shivered under his touch, torn between hesitation and the way his fingertips made her ache in places she couldn't name.
