CHAPTER 59
LEAN
I leaned closer, so close I could feel the warmth of her breath feathering against my mouth. My restraint snapped, and before I could stop myself, I pressed my lips to hers.
She shifted, barely—a soft sigh escaping her throat, the faintest tilt of her head toward me—but her lashes never lifted. She was still lost in sleep.
Yet there it was.
A spark.
The smallest stirrings of response, fragile and unknowing, but enough to unravel me.
The ghost of her mouth moving under mine made my pulse slam, made the hunger in me roar like it had been waiting for centuries.
Her lips were softer than memory had allowed, warm and yielding even in her slumber.
Every breath she drew against me fanned the fire in my chest, until the ache was unbearable, until I thought I might shatter from it.
Her warmth… God, her warmth.
The soft give of her lips against mine was everything I’d starved for, everything I’d tortured myself imagining in the long, empty nights.
It was wrong—so damn wrong—but it felt like home, and that contradiction nearly ripped me apart.
My hands twitched with the urge to move—to sink into her hair, to hold her face and drink her in—but I forced them into fists at my sides.
I couldn’t.
I shouldn’t.
Every ounce of control I had left went into holding myself back.
Then she breathed against me, a tiny sigh, the smallest tilt of her head. It was nothing and everything.
My chest constricted so violently it hurt. That slight response, unconscious as it was, sent hunger tearing through me like fire racing up dry wood.
I trembled, caught between the savage need to take more and the crushing guilt of stealing even this.
My lips lingered on hers anyway, traitorous, savouring the taste I had no right to. Every second deepened the war in me—love and hunger on one side, restraint and shame on the other—until I thought I might break clean in half.
Yesterday… God, yesterday was torture.
The second I saw her, every part of me screamed to move, to reach out, to grab her hand and never let go.
Her scent hit me the second we brushed past each other—faint, but sharp enough to cut straight through me.
My skin prickled, my muscles locked tight, and my stomach twisted like I’d been struck from the inside. It wasn’t just desire. It was needed, raw and merciless, and it hollowed me out in one breath.
My chest pounded, my lungs burned, but I kept my steps steady. I forced my face into that blank mask I’d worn for years, the one that told the world I felt nothing.
God, but inside, I was torn apart.
Walking past her felt like dragging broken bones with every step. My body begged me to stop, to turn, to grab her and never let go. Every instinct I had screamed for it—but I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
So I kept walking.
My jaw locked, my eyes fixed ahead, like she was no one to me.
Like she hadn’t been everything once.
Like she wasn’t still everything.
I swallowed it all—the ache, the pull, the screaming hunger—until it sat heavy in my throat, bitter and burning.
To anyone watching, I was just a man passing by. A stranger.
That’s all she could see me as.
That’s all I let myself be.
And it ripped me apart.
I felt her behind me before I even turned, the weight of her presence pulling at me like a hook buried deep in my chest. I shouldn’t have looked. I knew I shouldn’t.
But I did.
Just once more, I told myself. Just one more glance.
The second my eyes locked on hers, I went still.
She was looking at me—God, she was looking at me like she needed me. Like she’d been waiting, aching.
Fuck.
My body betrayed me, every instinct screaming to move toward her, to close the distance, to take back everything I’d lost.
But I forced it down.
I stood there, face blank, jaw locked until I swore I’d splinter a tooth.
My shoulders stayed loose only because I ordered them to, but everything else inside me was shaking with the effort.
I made myself look at her like she was nothing. Like she was no one. Just another passerby in the noise of the world.
But God, she wasn’t.
She never was.
My chest burned with the lie.
Each breath came tighter, harder, like I was choking on air.
My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails biting my palms, the only thing keeping me from reaching out—tucking that strand of hair behind her ear, feeling the softness of her skin, reminding myself she was still flesh and blood and not just the ghost that haunted me.
I wanted to touch her so badly it ached all the way down to the bone.
But I didn’t.
I stood there, strangling the sound clawing up my throat, swallowing the truth that pressed against my teeth.
My whole body shook from the restraint, every muscle straining to keep the mask in place.
So I pretended.
Pretended she was a stranger.
Pretended she wasn’t the only thing in this world that could undo me.
Even though she was the only one who ever had.
Even as I left, the faintest trace of her lingered in the air, teasing me.
Every fibre of me ached, every muscle trembling with restraint, every heartbeat screaming her name.
I had to remain a stranger, maintain the illusion, even as the memory of her presence burned through me.
I could not let her see what she did to me, could not let her know that behind my indifferent facade, I was unravelling entirely.
After she left, I went back to the spot she’d stood, like some pathetic fool chasing shadows. My chest dragged in what little was left of her—her scent, faint and fading, but still enough to gut me. Sweet, warm, familiar. I breathed it in hard, like it could keep me alive, like without it I’d collapse right there.
God, I’d missed this.
Missed her.
And standing there, feeling her presence overwhelm me, I realised that nothing in me could pretend indifference anymore.
I wanted her.
All of her.
But now… now I had her.
In my arms.
Real. Warm.
Too good to let go.
I pulled her to me, greedily, possessively, wrapping her against my bare chest as though my body could shield her from the years between us, from the cruelty of time, from everything that had kept us apart.
I pressed my face into her hair, breathing her in like it was the only thing tethering me to this earth.
For one reckless, selfish heartbeat, I wanted to stay.
Just stay—anchored to her, drowning in the warmth I’d been starved of, breathing her in until the hollow inside me finally went quiet.
I wanted to keep her, to never hand her back to the cold silence that had gutted me without her.
But then—
The knock. Sharp. Too loud. Splitting through the stillness like a blade.
She shifted beneath me, just barely, but it was enough to send panic ripping through my chest.
No.
Not yet.
Not like this.
My arms locked around her on instinct, desperate to hold her tighter, to pretend I had more time, but I couldn’t risk it.
I couldn’t risk her waking and finding me here—hovering, exposed, the truth written all over me.
I forced my body to betray itself. Fingers unclenching, grip loosening, even as every nerve screamed in revolt.
My jaw ached from how hard I ground it shut, like I could chew down the madness that begged me to stay.
Her lashes flickered. My heart stopped. One more second, and she’d see me—see everything—and I couldn’t let that happen.
Not when I was nothing but the shadow outside her world now.
The knock came again, harder this time, dragging me out by force. I pulled back, slow and unwilling, like each inch was being ripped straight out of me.
And then I let her go.
Even though it wasn’t what I wanted. Even though it felt like leaving her would kill me.