She told herself it was just a moment.
Just a passing feeling.
But the second his fingers brushed against hers, she knew that wasn’t true.
“You always do this,” she whispered, trying to steady her voice.
“Do what?” he asked, stepping closer, his presence already overwhelming her senses.
“Make me forget everything.”
A faint smile crossed his lips. “Maybe you don’t want to remember.”
Her heart pounded as he closed the space between them. There was something about him—something she couldn’t explain—that pulled her in every time. No matter how hard she tried, she always ended up right here… too close, too aware, too lost.
“You’re dangerous,” she murmured.
“And yet you’re still here.”
She didn’t deny it.
Because the truth was, she didn’t want to leave.
His hand gently moved along her arm, slow and intentional, sending a wave of warmth through her body. She inhaled sharply, her thoughts slipping away with every second.
“I think…” she hesitated, her voice softer now, “I’m addicted to your touch.”
He paused for a moment, his eyes searching hers. “Then maybe I shouldn’t stop.”
Before she could respond, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that felt both gentle and consuming. It wasn’t rushed—it was deep, meaningful, and filled with everything they hadn’t said.
Her world tilted.
Her hands held onto him as if he was the only thing keeping her grounded, even though he was the reason she felt so unsteady.
And in that moment, she stopped fighting it.
Because some addictions… don’t need a cure.