Page 66 of Gathered Sparkle

“How our eyes change when we look at someone we’re in love with,” he answers softly as his gaze roams over my face, tracing my features. “Our pupils dilate, like they do in the dark, trying to let in more light.”

Love.The word hovers between us, but it doesn’t send me into a panic. Instead, it settles over me like something inevitable, something true.

His gaze travels slowly up my face, then, like a soft stroke, our eyes lock. His pupils expand. I watch in fascination, my lips parting at the silent confession that’s written in the way he looks at me.

I hold my breath, frozen in the moment as my mind races.

Did my eyes do the same? Can he tell what I’m feeling?

Of course, he can.He always has.

His thumb trails a path to my bottom lip, lingering there, and the faintest shiver races up my spine, unfreezing my body.He clocks the change, something like approval in his gaze as he smiles softly at me.

One more ghost swipe of his thumb across my lips unlocks my body entirely, and I lift onto my knees and try to surge toward him, but he slows me gently with his hands on my face before I can get close enough for our lips to touch.

“And we blink less,” he murmurs. “Just to make the moment last longer…”

I swear time slows as his fingers curl against my jaw and tilt my face up just before he brushes his lips against mine in a tentative caress that feels like a question.

Yes. My mind, body, and soul agree. The only answer is yes. Yes, to all of it.

My hands slide to his shoulders, gripping him tightly. It must be answer enough because he slides one hand into my hair and deepens the kiss, his fingers threading through the strands and binding me to him.

He takes his time kissing me, savoring every second, every response my body displays. My fingers curl tighter into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he obliges this time, his free hand finding my waist. He tastes like coffee and something sweeter, something that’s entirely him, and I think I could drown in it, in him.

So, I let myself drown.

I let myself sink.

When he finally pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against mine, we’re both breathing hard. His eyes are still closed as he holds me to him, his hand still tangled in my hair.

“I meant it,” he whispers. “You’re beautiful. And crazy. Smart, skilled, sassy, and funny.” His eyes open and intently bore into mine. “And I’m a fucking fool for you.”

We hold each other’s gazes for several long moments, my heart aching with emotion as I toy with a piece of his hair. “Youshould’ve been a musician,” I murmur, still hearing his song. “Not a mentalist. You’re too good.”

His lips quirk into a soft smile, and his hand slips from my waist to rest on my knee. “I like what I do. But if it makes you look at me like that, maybe I’ll consider a career change.”

I laugh again, but it’s quieter this time, more breathless. My gaze drops to where his hand rests on my knee, its simple intimacy making my heart feel like it might burst.

I am so gone for him.

Koen is everything I never thought I’d crave, and yet, here he is, holding me like I’m something precious, and I’m letting him.

“I think I’m in trouble,” I whisper.

“Good,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to my forehead. “Because I’m already there with you.”

His lips wander to graze the tender spot beneath my ear, then trail down my neck. The heat of his breath sends a slow shiver through me, but it’s not nerves—it’s anticipation. Need. Want. Every place he touches feels like it belongs to him already.

I shiver involuntarily, my shoulders tilting toward him, desperate for more.

He plants a kiss right over the racing pulse at my throat. “You’re precious.”

“I’m not,” I breathe, the protest weak as it leaves my lips, more habit than belief.

Koen freezes. “Are you questioning my judgment now?”

“What? N-no. Why would I—” I stammer.

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