The room felt smaller with every second that passed.
Zayn’s hands were still on her feet, warm and steady, but the air between them had thickened into something almost tangible. Lena’s breathing had changed—shallower, uneven—and he noticed. Of course he did. He always noticed.
He slowed his movements, not stopping, just enough to make the sensation unbearable.
“Zayn…” she whispered, her voice betraying her far more than she intended.
He looked up.
And that was a mistake.
Because the moment their eyes locked, the fragile line they had been balancing on began to crack.
His gaze had darkened, stripped of calculation and restraint, replaced by something raw and hungry that sent a pulse straight through her core. Lena’s fingers curled into the couch cushion as if grounding herself, but i
