The air between us was electric, charged with something forbidden and undeniable.
Ethan leaned against the desk, arms crossed, watching me. "You look like you're about to run."
I forced a shaky breath. "Maybe I should."
"But you won't," he said simply.
I hated how sure he sounded. I hated that he was right.
"Ethan, this isn't…" I paused, searching for the right words. "This isn't normal."
"Who cares?" His voice was quiet, but there was something intense beneath it. "Who decides what's normal?"
I looked at him, my throat dry. "Everyone."
Ethan pushed off the desk and stepped closer. I should have stepped back, but I didn't.
"You want to know what I think?" he murmured. "I think you're scared. Not because this is wrong, but because you want it."
His words sent a shiver down my spine.
"Tell me to stop," he challenged. "Tell me you don't feel it too, and I'll walk away."
I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn't come.
Because I did feel it. And that was the problem.
Ethan reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered, his touch sending warmth through my skin.
"See?" he whispered. "You can't."
I should have walked away.
But then, he leaned in, his lips inches from mine, and suddenly, every rule, every warning, every reason I had to stay away disappeared.
And when his lips finally met mine, the world faded away—leaving only us.