Page 20 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz
GRAU
Restraint is a skill.
People think it’s something you’re born with or not, like patience or mercy. They’re wrong. Restraint is learned. Earned. Beaten into you by consequences and blood and the memory of what happens when you let instinct drive.
I’ve been restraining myself for days.
Days of seeing her across café tables and conference lounges. Days of walking her home without touching her. Days of sitting beside her while she pretends she isn’t leaning toward me by degrees so small she thinks I won’t notice.
I noticeeverything.
I learn her rhythms the way I learn a battlefield.
I learn that she taps her thumb against her glass when she’s overstimulated. That she exhales through her nose when she’s lying to herself. That her shoulders tighten when she’s tired but refuses to admit it. That she jokes when she wants reassurance but won’t ask for it.
I learn how her scent shifts when she’s stressed—sharp, electric—and how it softens when she laughs, like warm citrus and heat. I learn the cadence of her voice when she’s distracted, the way it dips when she’s trying not to want something.
Me.
She pretends she doesn’t crave me.
I pretend I don’t crave her harder.
Every encounter coils the tension tighter. Every almost-touch, every lingering look, every moment where her knee brushes mine and she freezes—then doesn’t move away.
She’s not unaware.
She’schoosingrestraint too.
Which makes it worse.
When she finally invites me into her home, it’s said casually. Tossed over her shoulder as we stand in the quiet glow of her entryway.
“Do you want to come in?”
Simple words.
Nothing in them that suggests danger.
Everything in them that changes my universe.
I step inside.
The door slides shut behind me with a sound that feels final.
Her place smells like her—clean linen, faint florals, ozone from city air filtered through high-end vents. Soft lighting spills across polished surfaces. It’s elegant but lived in. A space made for thinking. For surviving.
Forher.
She turns to face me.
And that’s it.
The restraint snaps.
I don’t plan it. Don’t think. Don’t give myself time to be civilized.
I seize her.
