Stevie-Lou’s POV

I should’ve walked away. Should’ve stood up, mumbled something about sleep, and disappeared into the guest room I never used. But I didn’t.

Instead, I reached for him again.

This time, he didn’t move. Didn’t stop me. His eyes stayed on mine, waiting.

My fingers brushed over his jaw, slow and uncertain at first, until he leaned into my touch. And that was all the permission I needed. I shifted closer, heart hammering like it was trying to warn me of something I was already too deep into.

“Smith,” I whispered.

He turned toward me, that soft, unreadable look taking over his face again. But this time, I...