Zina's POV
The car ride back from the restaurant was quiet, but it wasn't peaceful.
Jared tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, the faint rhythm matching the erratic beat of my heart. I could still feel the heat of his lips on mine, the way his hands had steadied me like I was something precious. Something fragile to be handled carefully.
It messed with my head.
I was supposed to be strong, in control, but one kiss—one moment—and my resolve had shattered like glass. Now, I was stuck in the small, enclosed space of the car, my thoughts spinning faster than I could contain them.
"Stop staring," I said, my voice sharper than I intended.
"I'm not staring."
"Yes, you are."
His lips twitched like he was fighting back a grin. "I'm observing."
"Observing what?"
"You." He finally glanced at me, eyes dancing with mischief. "You're fidgeting. And you keep touching your lips like you're thinking about kissing me again."
