Chapter 58

LEAN

I slipped into the room, bare feet silent against the cool floor, my chest bare to the crisp winter air that followed me in, wings folding back behind me with a soft rustle.

The moment I breathed in, her scent hit me—warm, intimate, impossibly familiar. Not perfume. Not air. Her. And just like that, something inside my chest clenched, tight and cruel, making it almost impossible to draw in a full breath.

Every instinct screamed to stop, to back away, but my eyes found her before my body obeyed.

I stopped at the edge of the bed.

And there she was.

My eyes locked onto her, and the rest of the world just… ceased.

The blanket had slipped low, revealing the smooth curve of her shoulder, the fragile dip of her collarbone that I remembered far too well.

My gaze drank her in, starving, desperate, as though a single glance could make up for years of loss.

Her hair spilt over the pillow in waves of pale gold, catching the faint light from the window.

My throat worked, dry, useless, while my chest rose and fell too fast, too hard.

God, she was so close.

So real.

I lifted a hand before I even realised it, trembling despite myself.

Their fingers hovered just above her, so close that if I leaned the slightest bit forward, I could brush the strand of hair clinging to her cheek, trace the curve of her jaw, remind myself she was real.

God, I wanted to.

Every instinct in me screamed to touch her again, just once, to remind myself she was real. To close the hollow ache that had been gnawing at me for years.

But my fingers curled into a fist midair, knuckles white with restraint.

I shouldn’t be here.

Fuck, I knew it.

I told myself a hundred times that I had no right, no claim, no place in her world anymore.

I should have kept my distance, swallowed the storm tearing through my chest, and left her untouched, unaware.

But the moment I saw her today—just one glimpse—it broke me.

I couldn’t stay away.

My heart betrayed me, dragging me here like a man possessed, like every step was carved out by something I couldn’t fight.

My fingers ached to sink into her hair, to trace the softness I already knew—because I had touched it before, and it had been exactly this soft, exactly this dangerous—softer than silk, warmer than anything I deserved.

I had touched it before, buried my face in it, let it slip through my fingers like sunlight I could never hold on to.

The memory stabbed deep, sharp enough to make my chest tighten.

I shouldn’t be here.

I couldn’t be here.

And yet I was—because staying away from her had never been an option.

I stood there, shaking with the pull of her, hating myself for wanting and hating myself even more for denying it.

My chest clenched so tight it hurt, a violent shudder tearing through me. My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I swore it would drag her from sleep. I dragged in a breath to steady myself, but it caught, breaking into ragged gasps that betrayed me.

My hands curled at my sides, trembling, nails biting into my palms.

Her chest rose and fell, steady, unknowing. That tiny motion gutted me. The quiet proof of life I thought I’d buried years ago.

I couldn’t stop myself—I leaned closer, just enough to breathe her in.

Her scent hit me hard, flooding my lungs, and for a second my knees nearly gave out.

That familiar sweetness, that faint trace of warmth that had haunted me in dreams—it was still hers. Still her. I inhaled again, greedy, desperate, like I could fill the hollow years inside me just by stealing her air.

God, how I had missed this.

Missed her.

A heat surged through me, coiling tight in my chest, making every nerve ache. My pulse thundered, demanding release, my body reacting before my mind could even catch up. Every instinct screamed to close the tiny distance between us, to lift my hand, brush her cheek, tilt her face up… and finally touch those lips I had haunted every memory with.

Her lips—soft, full, impossibly pink—tormented me. Always had, even in the years I thought I’d forgotten. Just being this close, feeling the faint warmth of her skin beneath my fingers’ tentative hover, made my body betray me. My heart thundered, my chest tightened, every inch of me straining toward her.

It was maddening.

Every inhale of her scent, every subtle movement she made even in sleep, set me ablaze. I could almost taste her, feel her lips beneath mine.

Desire warred with restraint, but the pull… the pull was unbearable. I wanted—no, needed—to close the gap, to reclaim what I had lost, to lose myself in her again.

I leaned closer, helpless, dragging her into me with every breath. My eyes slipped shut as her scent filled me, burning its way into my chest until I thought I might break from it.

I drank it in greedily, my nostrils flaring, every breath branding me with her, searing her back into the hollow places I’d tried to carve her out of.

It wasn’t enough.

God, it would never be enough.

The more I breathed her in, the sharper the ache became, twisting through my chest and settling deep in my bones.

It was as if every lost year, every empty night without her, had pooled into this single, unbearable moment.

My whole body ached to be closer, to touch, to taste—to exist in the same space as her in a way that made sense of the years of absence.

And then my lips moved before I had a chance to think. Light at first, almost hesitant, brushing hers in a fleeting, dangerous whisper of contact.

But the second I felt her softness, every restraint shattered. I pressed harder, hungrily, desperately, as though this one kiss could make up for everything I’d lost.

Her lips were warmer than memory, sweeter than I dared imagine, and the world narrowed until nothing else existed—just the heat of her mouth against mine, the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath my hands, the impossible closeness that had haunted my dreams for years.

“Aria…” The name slipped from me in a broken whisper, reverent and raw, as if speaking it aloud might shatter the spell.

My lips brushed her cheek, then her mouth—soft, unbearably soft.

I kissed her once, gently, but the hunger inside me tore through restraint, and I pressed harder, rougher, trying to taste her, to claim what I’d been denied.

She stirred beneath me, a faint shift, her body shifting against the covers. My heart lurched, hammering against my ribs like it wanted out.

For a heartbeat I froze, terrified she would wake and see me crouched over her like a starving man. But she only sighed, lips parting the barest fraction, still deep in sleep.

The sound unravelled me.

I kissed her again, urgent now, mouth sliding over hers, desperate to slip inside, to steal the sweetness I remembered. Her breath hitched, quickening, and I almost lost it completely.

My fingers curled into the sheets to stop myself from touching more, from taking more.

Every second was agony.

Every second was ecstasy.

Her breathing quickened, shallow little gasps that made my chest tighten.

Every tiny sound, every flutter of movement under the covers, set something wild loose in me.

I wanted—no, needed—to reach out, to touch, to remember the feel of her hair, her skin, the warmth I had known before.

I bent closer, letting my nose brush against the curve of her neck, inhaling that scent that had been burned into me long ago. It hit me like fire, a sharp, aching pull I couldn’t fight.

“Aria…” I whispered, almost pleading, and she stirred slightly, just enough to make my heart lurch, but she stayed asleep.

Every soft, muffled sound she made made my hands move almost against my will, desperate and greedy, tracing what I knew, remembering what I had touched before.

My desire surged, raw and unrelenting, and for a moment I had to close my eyes to stop myself from losing all control.

The soft, muffled sounds from her throat were like a spark, igniting something deep and urgent inside me.

My body reacted before my mind could even catch up. Every instinct screamed, every nerve blazed with need.

My hands itched to explore, to feel the warmth and softness I had imagined a thousand times, yet a flicker of reason tried to pull me back.

I knew I was crossing a line I shouldn’t, yet the pull was unbearable.

Her scent, the rise and fall of her chest, the delicate curve of her shoulder beneath my fingertips—it all consumed me. Whispering her name, barely audible, I leaned closer, my pulse hammering in my ears.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, a tiny response that twisted something in me, making it impossible to stop.

Desire warred with restraint, and for a moment, all I could do was surrender to the pull, trembling with need and the ache of longing.