Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 35133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Her breath hitches, and then she exhales slowly, like she’s giving in to it.
“Don’t let him take me,” she says quietly.
Something in my chest tightens at the words.
I step closer, closing the last of the space between us, my other hand bracing against the counter beside her, caging her in without trapping her.
“He won’t,” I say.
Her gaze searches mine, something new there now, something softer, something that trusts.
And that changes everything.
The tension shifts.
Her breath brushes my jaw, warm and unsteady, her fingers sliding slightly against my shirt as she steadies herself, and then her eyes flick to my mouth.
I feel the moment before it happens.
The choice.
This time, neither of us pulls back.
I close the distance slowly, giving her time to stop me, to step away, but she doesn’t.
Her lips meet mine, tentative at first, and then deeper, slower, like everything she’s feeling has nowhere else to go. The tension from outside, the fear, the adrenaline, it all twists into something else between us, something hotter, something that pulls tighter instead of breaking.
I slide my hand up from her waist, steadying her as the kiss deepens, controlled but not restrained, and she leans into it, into me, like she needs this just as much as I do.
For a moment, everything else disappears.
No woods.
No shadow.
Just her.
Then a sharp crack echoes outside, closer than before.
We both freeze.
The moment breaks, but the shift between us doesn’t.
It stays.
Lingering.
Changing everything.
Chapter 11
Maddie
The sound outside lingers long after it fades, settling somewhere deep in my chest like an echo that refuses to disappear.
It feels sharp and hollow at the same time, like something is still out there, still waiting, just beyond what I can see.
But I don’t move.
I don’t step away.
Because Ethan is still right in front of me, one hand braced beside my head, the other steady at my waist, his body close enough that it feels like he is the only thing holding the world in place.
And right now, he is.
My fingers are still twisted into his shirt, knuckles tight, and I don’t remember deciding to grab him or leaning in or closing that distance. I only know that when I saw that man, when I felt how close he was, something inside me shifted.
Not fear.
Something sharper.
Something that refused to face it alone.
“You’re okay,” Ethan says, his voice low and controlled, but closer than before, closer in a way that settles into me instead of pushing me back.
“I saw him,” I whisper, because I need him to understand that this is real now, that this is not just a feeling or a suspicion anymore. “I saw his face.”
His jaw tightens, something darker moving through his expression. “I know.”
“No, you don’t get it.” My grip tightens without thinking, pulling him a fraction closer. “He wasn’t just watching. He…” I shake my head, my breath catching. “He looked like he knew me.”
Silence fills the space between us, heavy and charged, but not empty. It is full of everything we are not saying, everything he has been trying to draw out of me since the moment I arrived.
“You said that before,” he says quietly. “Now you’re sure.”
I nod once.
My breathing is still uneven, my pulse still too loud in my ears, but something else is threading through it now, something warmer, something that has nothing to do with the man outside and everything to do with the one standing in front of me.
Ethan doesn’t step back.
He doesn’t give me space.
He holds it, holds me there with nothing but his presence and the weight of his gaze.
“Then he made a mistake,” he says.
I swallow. “How?”
His eyes drop to my mouth, slow and deliberate, before lifting back to mine. “Because now I know how close he’s willing to get.”
My breath catches.
It shouldn’t matter that he’s looking at me like that.
It does.
More than it should.
“You’re not even worried,” I murmur, reaching for something steady, something logical to hold onto.
“I’m always worried,” he says. “I just don’t show it.”
“Why not?”
His gaze sharpens as it meets mine. “Because then you’d panic.”
“I’m already panicking.”
“No,” he says quietly. “You’re holding it together.”
The words land deeper than they should.
Because he’s right.
Because I’ve been holding it together since the second I realized I wasn’t alone out here.
And right now, I don’t want to hold it together anymore.
Not this.
Not him.
“Ethan…” His name leaves me softer than I intend, more breath than sound, and I don’t even realize what I’m about to do until I feel myself leaning forward.
Closing the space.
Choosing it.
His body stills instantly, like he wasn’t expecting that, like he’s waiting for me to pull away again.
I don’t.
My fingers loosen in his shirt and slide upward, curling at the back of his neck as I tilt my head and press my mouth to his.
The kiss is not soft or careful.
It’s urgent.
Everything I’ve been holding back breaking loose at once, the adrenaline still running through me, the fear and tension twisting into something else as I pull him closer.