I want in.
Elias
I drove home with the window cracked open.
Not for the cold air.
For the oxygen.
For the goddamn sanity I was losing by the second.
Her lips were still on mine.
Her scent still on my jacket.
Her voice—"I like it when you hold me"—still echoing through every corner of my skull.
I was not okay.
I parked the truck like a man possessed.
Barely remembered to kill the engine.
Walked into the house.
Stood in the hallway.
Then sat on the armrest of the couch because I didn't trust my legs to hold me upright.
What the hell just happened?
She kissed me.
No.
I kissed her.
And she kissed me back.
Not shy.
Not scared.
But open.
Certain.
Soft lips, soft sigh, soft hands tangled in the front of my jacket like she didn't want me to pull away.
And god help me—
I didn't want to pull away.
I'd kissed dozens of women in my life.
But none of them ever looked at me the way she did afterward.
Like she didn't just let it happen.
Like she wanted it.
Wanted me.
My hands were still shaking.
I looked down at my palms.
They'd been on her waist less than an hour ago.
She was so small under them.
So warm.
So trusting.
And I…
I wanted to ruin that.
Not in a bad way.
But in every way that made my blood run hot and my mind short-circuit.
I wanted to kiss her again.
Right now.
Harder.
Longer.
I wanted to feel her body press into mine until I couldn't remember where she ended and I began.
And that terrified me.
Because this wasn't some random hookup.
This wasn't lust in a bar or a one-night stand I'd forget by morning.
This was her.
Liana.
The girl I pulled out of a warehouse five years ago.
The woman who now stood on her own feet.
Who kissed me like I was worth it.
Who trusted me with her silence, her smiles, her goddamn heartbeat.
And I—
I could barely hold it together.
My jaw clenched.
I stood.
Paced.
Sat again.
Then dropped my face into my hands and let out the slowest exhale of my life.
You don't deserve her, some brutal voice whispered.
You're too old. Too experienced. Too messed up.
You're gonna hurt her.
But another voice—
The one that was louder every day—
Said:
She chose you.
She stood there and let you in.
She let you touch her.
She leaned into it.
Into you.
So what the hell was I doing sitting here like some scared kid?
Because I am scared, I realized.
Of moving too fast.
Of taking too much.
Of crossing a line she might not even see yet.
She's never had this.
Never been in love.
Never—
Don't go there.
I stood again, fists clenched.
Walked to the kitchen.
Poured a glass of water.
Didn't drink it.
Just stared at it, jaw locked, heartbeat still too damn fast.
I was losing it.
And the worst part?
I didn't want to stop.
I didn't want to pull away or slow down or do the noble thing and keep her at a distance.
I wanted her.
All of her.
Laughs and fears and messy emotions and stupid psych books with sticky notes sticking out.
I wanted her in my arms again.
And again.
And again.
I looked down at my phone.
Nothing from her yet.
No texts.
No calls.
But that was okay.
Because I didn't need words to know—
That kiss changed everything.
And there was no going back.
—
🌙 **Lia's Note**
I'm not sure if you're reading this story.
Let me know if you'd like me to continue posting.
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