Page 225 of Sweet Nightmare

His hand cradling the back of my head. His thumb brushing the exposed skin on my waist. The warmth of his body pressed against mine.

Yes, everything is complicated and terrifying.

But somehow, in his arms, it all makes sense.

And then it dawns on me.

This beautiful, infuriating man isn’t some fantasy I can tuck away when reality comes knocking. He isn’t a fleeting weakness or a moment of reckless curiosity I’ll laugh about in a few years.

He’s real and he’s flawed. He’s also complicated in ways I probably haven’t even begun to understand.

And my heart has decided he’s worth the risk.

I’m not sure when the decision was made. I only know that I’m standing on my tiptoes, kissing him beneath the dim hallway lights, and I’ve never wanted anything to last longer than this moment.

Not even the nights when it’s just me and the ice.

Eventually, Stephen eases away.

He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, his breath mingling with mine in the tiny space between our lips. His hand remains tangled in my hair and his other arm is still wrapped around my waist.

The second his lips left mine, I started missing him.

I don’t know why I miss him when he’s still holding me. His forehead is still touching mine and I can still feel the faint brush of his nose against my cheek.

“Goodnight, Artemis,” he whispers. His voice is softer now, a little rough around the edges, and the sound of my name on his lips makes something in my chest ache.

“Goodnight, Stephen.”

I don’t want the night to end. I want to kiss him again. I want to stay right here, tucked against him, until the moon goes to sleep and the sun comes up.

But eventually, reality wins.

I slip inside my room, giving him one last look before I pull the door toward me. And just before it closes, I catch the faintest glimpse of his smile.

God, how I love his smile.

The door clicks shut and I turn around, lean back against it, and cover my face with both hands.

I stand there in the darkness trying to process the complete and utter collapse of my emotional defenses. Twenty-seven years of perfectly rational decision-making. Twenty-seven years of carefully considered choices, ironclad boundaries, and absolutely no interest in becoming the sort of woman who loses her mind over a man.

Undone by one beautiful, infuriating man and his ground shaking kisses.

I groan into my palms.

“If I’m not careful, I’m going to end up a lovesick fool like everyone around me.”

The horror.

The absolute, unforgivable horror.

I can already picture it. Me, smiling at absolutely nothing. Probably writing his name in the margins of my notes like I’ve suffered some catastrophic head injury.

I drag my hands down my face and let out another groan.

And then, I touch my fingertips to my lips.

Because I can still feel him there. The warmth of his mouth. The gentleness of his hand against my cheek. The way he pulled me closer, as though there had never been anywhere else he wanted to be.