Larissa's POV
Carson leaned across the center console, his body close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. My breath caught as his dark eyes locked onto mine. For one electric moment, I was certain he would kiss me. Instead, his lips found my forehead in a gentle, lingering touch that somehow felt more intimate than any kiss we had shared.
"Get some rest," he whispered against my skin. "I'll see you in the morning."
I could only nod, my voice trapped somewhere between my racing heart and his proximity. His cologne enveloped me, rich and intoxicating, making it impossible to think clearly.
"Goodnight, Carson," I finally managed, my fingers trembling as I reached for the door handle.
"Goodnight, Rissa."
The next morning, Carson arrived promptly, carrying coffee and a familiar white bag that made my heart skip.
"Marlowe's?" I asked, accepting the warm pastries. "How did you possibly remember that?"
