Lumi’s POV
Briggs doesn’t give me space. If anything, he closes it. Like the idea of distance between us doesn’t exist to him.
My back is still against the wall, his body still close enough that I can perceive his cologne—musk, bergamot and patchouli off him through the thin space between us. His hand hasn’t moved far from my waist, and somehow that small detail makes everything worse. Or better, I don’t know anymore.
Will I be crazy if I say I don’t want him to move?
The thought comes uninvited. I swallow slowly, trying to steady myself, but he notices.
Of course he notices. His hand lifts and it comes to my jaw. Fingers firm, warm, intentional as he tilts my face up just enough so I have no choice but to look at him.
“Don’t tell me you want to chicken out now,” he says quietly, his
