Page 113 of Hidden Echoes

It’s not just physical—it’s deeper, something that pulls at my chest every time she’s close.

But I want her to want me,the real me.

Not the version of me she’s built in her head, some idealized image she clings to when reality feels too heavy.

My eyes wander back to Mia, watching her sleep so peacefully.

It’s almost unfair, how serene she looks when everything around us is a storm.

She’s completely unaware of the way my body tightens at the sight of her—like she's some kind of magnetic force, drawing me in despite my best intentions to stay away.

I’ve already run. Already drawn. Already tried distracting myself with a thousand excuses.

But it’s no use. Not when she’s lying there, her chest rising and falling in that rhythm I could get lost in, her skin glowing in the dim light that filters through the window.

She doesn’t know how badly I want to close the space between us, feel her heat against me.

The way she shifts ever so slightly, her lips parting just enough to tempt me, has my pulse racing.

I want to reach out, run my fingers through her hair, pull her into me and make her feel the same pull I can’t escape.

She stirs, her eyes fluttering open, and for a moment, she’s still half in the dream world, still soft and unguarded. Her gaze lands on me, like she’s known all along that I’ve been watching. “What?” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep, but there's an edge there now, like she can feel the weight of the silence, the unsaid words, hanging in the air between us.

I stand there, caught in the intensity of her eyes, the way she looks at me like she’s trying to read my soul. My mouth goes dry, and I fight the urge to step closer, to close that space she’s left between us.

“Nothing,” I say, my voice a little rougher than I want it to be, betraying me. She knows, I think. She always knows. "Just... thinking."

She tilts her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Thinking about what, exactly?”

About fucking you senseless.

I can’t answer her. Not with words. Not when the tension feels like it’s choking me, making it hard to breathe.

My eyes drop to her lips, then back to her eyes, and I swear she’s teasing me with every little movement, every shift of her body.

My heart beats faster, louder, and I can’t decide if I want to kiss her or shout at her for making me feel this way.

She arches an eyebrow, sensing the shift in the air, her smile widening. “You know,” she says softly, “you’re way more charming when you stop fighting us.”

I don’t answer her, not right away. Instead, I let my gaze linger, the unspoken words hanging between us like a threat, waiting to be crossed.

God, I want her. The thought pulses through my veins, and for a moment, I forget everything else—our past, the mess we've made, the things I can’t say.

Mia leans up slightly, her body just a breath away from mine. “Stop running, Zane,” she murmurs, her voice low and thick with something I can’t quite place, but it pulls at me, right down to my core. “Stop pretending you don’t want this.”

Every part of me is scared to let her see that.

Every muscle in my body tightens.

I could close that distance between us in an instant, feel the heat of her skin against mine, taste the words she’s begging me to say.

Instead, I stay still, every nerve on edge, battling the urge to throw caution to the wind.

How do I tell her I’m terrified I’ll screw this up? I want her, all of her, but I’m so damn broken inside.

I want her, but does she want me back. Is it real for her now?

I’m stuck in this moment, caught between the need for her and the fear of what might happen if I give in.

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