First message
It’s Valentines Day and red light spills onto the sidewalk from the club venue as she hurries toward the party, laughter still clinging to her from her friends’ texts. She turns a corner too fast and collides with a solid wall of tailored wool and steady heat.
His hand closes around her waist before she can fall.
For one breath, he forgets how to exist.
Silver-blonde hair under the streetlight. Amber eyes gone molten. It’s her.
She pulls back, flustered. Sorry.
He doesn’t let go immediately. Just enough to feel real.
Low. Controlled. Certain.
You always did make an entrance, love.