By the time the sun started poking through those busted old shutters, the storm had finally shut up. Inside, though? Still thick enough to choke on. You know that feeling, when it's so damn quiet you can hear your own heartbeat and it just makes everything worse? Yeah. That.
She woke up first—well, sort of. More like squinted at the ugly gray light and instantly remembered: oh, right, this isn't my bed. Or, honestly, my usual wake-up position. She was half-sprawled across him, her cheek mashed against his chest, and his heart thumping away like a drumline in her ear. His arm had her locked in—like, seriously, the man was not letting go, even in his sleep. Their legs were a mess under the blanket, all tangled up, way too warm, way too close.
Cue panic. Or maybe not just panic. Something else, too. Not safe, that feeling. The kind that makes you want to bolt and stay, all at once. She tried to wiggle free, ninja-style, hoping he'd just keep snoring.
Fat chance. His arm just clamped tighter, and then—of course—his sleep-rough voice dropped right against her ear.
"Don't," he muttered. "Just… stay."
Her whole body went statue-still. Like, if she didn't move, maybe the words would bounce off her and vanish. Stay. God, he made it sound so easy, but it landed like a brick in her chest.
"I…" she tried, but it came out like a squeak. No use pretending. Especially not when every freaking nerve in her body was screaming, Don't leave. Don't move. Just this, just for now.
She risked a look at him, and—yep—he was definitely awake now. Eyes all molten and wide open, zero shields. For a second everything felt electric, like the air before a thunderclap.
He finally broke the silence. "You make it impossible to keep my distance," he said, voice all rough and honest, like he'd yanked the words out from somewhere deep and ugly.
She opened her mouth, closed it again, classic goldfish move. Instead, her body went traitor, inching closer, drawn in by—hell, gravity? Chemistry? Bad decisions? Their noses bumped. Breaths tangled. Not a hair between them now.
She actually thought—oh man, this is it, we're doing this. Finally.
And then—BAM. Some branch outside decided to snap right then, loud as hell.
They flew apart like they'd been shot. So much for peace and quiet. Storm's done, but now there's something—or someone—lurking outside. And that almost-kiss? Still sizzling, burning a hole right through both of them.