Page 85 of His Surrender

She stares at me, her lips parting slightly as she searches my face.

“I spent two weeks convincing myself that if I stayed away from you,” I say quietly, “eventually, I’d wake up, and things would feel normal again.”

“And?”

I laugh bitterly. “And now I can’t decide whether staying away from you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made … or whether getting this close to you is.”

I take one slow step forward.

“So, which is it?” her soft voice asks.

I look down at her. The woman who has somehow become the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about before falling asleep.

The woman I spent weeks trying to forget while accidentally proving to myself that forgetting her isn’t an option anymore.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “And that’s what scares me.”

Neither of us moves. The space between us has grown impossibly small without either of us consciously closing it.

I become aware of everything at once—the faint floral scent of her perfume; the warmth radiating from her skin; the tiny, uneven rhythm of her breathing; the way her eyes keep flickering from mine to my mouth before guiltily returning again.

It feels as though the entire world has narrowed to the few inches separating us.

Nothing beyond this hallway exists anymore.

Only the impossible pull drawing me closer despite every reason I have to resist it.

My hand lifts almost involuntarily, my fingertips brushing against a loose strand of hair near her temple before settling lightly against the curve of her cheek.

She closes her eyes for the briefest moment, leaning into my touch.

When she looks back at me, her eyes are soft, questioning.

I lowered my forehead until it is only a breath away from hers.

One more inch … that is all it will take.

But the restroom door bursts open.

Laughter spills into the hallway as two women step out mid-conversation before stopping abruptly when they see us.

“Oh!” One of them blinks rapidly between us. “Sorry!”

The spell shatters instantly.

Aubrey steps back so quickly that she nearly loses her balance.

My hand drops to my side.

She searches my face one last time before turning and disappearing toward the bar, leaving me standing alone in the hallway, wondering how two interrupted moments could somehow make wanting her feel infinitely worse than if I’d kissed her at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY

AUBREY

Sleep isn’t happening.

I’ve spent the last hour staring at the ceiling, flipping my pillow over every five minutes, as if somehow the cool side will magically quiet my brain, but it doesn’t.