Before I could protest, his lips brushed mine — soft at first, then deeper, his tongue teasing the seam of my mouth. I melted into it for three dangerous seconds, tasting coffee and the faint salt of his skin. His hand tightened on my waist, possessive, clingy, like he was afraid I’d pull away.
A voice outside the booth made us freeze.
“Zara? You in there?”
It was Mia.
Elias stepped back instantly, adjusting his shirt like nothing happened. I smoothed my hair, cheeks burning.
“Yeah,” I called, stepping out. “Just testing the lights.”
Mia raised an eyebrow but smiled. “You look flushed. Heat getting to you?”
“Something like that,” I mumbled.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of paint fumes, laughter, and stolen glances. Elias found excuses to be near me — handing me tools,
