Page 70 of The Final Faceoff
I kissed him back.
And I didn’t just like it. No—craved it.
The memory of it lingers beneath my skin, wrapped in the warmth of his arms, in the way he holds me like I belong here. The ache of something unfinished presses into me, something reckless and consuming that I tried to bury beneath fear.
Leif isn’t just safety. He isn’t just comfort or familiarity. He is a shifting tide, pulling me in before I even realize I’ve lost my footing. The warning before the storm rolls in.
The pause between inhale and exhale, that moment when everything stills—right before you fall. I pull back just enough to look at him, my cheek still brushing against his chest. He’s watching me, eyes dark and unreadable, like he’s holding something back. Or maybe letting something slip. Either way, it’s there now, threading through the space between us, shifting the air, making it impossible to look away.
Not sure what it is, but it makes my stomach flip.
Now the question is, how do I get out of here without making it uncomfortable? Without . . . Oh, fuck.
Am I going to lose him?
“You slept like a baby,” Leif murmurs, interrupting my tiny meltdown.
I lick my lips, too aware of how close we are, of the way his thumb is lazily tracing circles against my back like he has every right to touch me like this. Like this is his favorite place to be.
Dangerous.
“Well, not sure if anyone has told you before, but you’re very comfortable,” I say, the words coming out softer than I mean them to.
His lips twitch. “You’re not just comfortable, you’re everything to me, Hay.”
I press my palm against his chest, trying to push up, to get some kind of control over this situation—over myself. It’s not working. The heat of his skin seeps into mine, and my body has the audacity to react like it wants to stay right here.
“Leif—”
“Hailey, I know what you’re going to say.” He exhales, gaze pinning me in place. “That this won’t work, that we’re not—” He pauses, eyes flicking over my face like he’s debating something. Then he shakes his head. “But you’re wrong. We’re good together. We’ve always been.”
I suck in a breath.
“I know this might make you run away before I finish the speech, but I’m in love with you.”
My entire body locks up.
“Like madly in love,” he continues, like he hasn’t just detonated my entire existence. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. The only reason I never told you is because you’re . . .” He tilts his head. “Fidgety.”
“Fidgety?” I gawk at him. “That’s—what does that even mean?”
His mouth curves in that way that makes me want to kiss him and punch him in equal measure. “It means you don’t like when people love you, because then you’re afraid you’ll fuck it all up.”
My throat goes dry.
“But after yesterday . . .” He exhales, eyes darkening. “We can’t go back.”
“We could,” I offer weakly, even though I know damn well we can’t.
Leif lets out a low laugh. “Really? Because I gave you a massage and . . .” His smirk widens, slow and lethal. “I could hear you all the way to my room. The moans, the screams, everything. You want me, babe.”
My entire body goes nuclear.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Oh, I did.” His voice drops to something downright dangerous. “You touching yourself . . .” He says it like he’s commenting on hockey stats. Like it’s not the most mortifying thing that’s ever happened to me. “That was interesting.”
I stop breathing.
