-Aurelian Salvatore:
The moment his fingers left my hair, the air felt colder.
My breath had caught somewhere halfway in my chest, suspended there as if my lungs had forgotten what to do next. For a second—just a second—my thoughts had gone quiet. No sharp edges, no defenses, no pride clawing its way back to the surface. Just warmth spreading slowly through me, deliberate and steady, like sunlight filtering through closed curtains.
He stepped around me again, studying the way my hair still threatened to fall forward.
"Bend down a little," he muttered. "I can't reach all of your hair."
The casualness of it snapped something loose inside my head.
I placed the knife carefully on the counter, set the vegetables aside, and turned toward him fully. I looked down at him, towering over him, and for a heartbeat we simply stood there. The kitchen felt smaller somehow, quieter, the faint sound of something simmering in the background the only reminder that time hadn't actually stopped.
