Page 83 of The Widower
“Is this what you meant?” he murmured, his voice gravelly.
“Exactly that,” I whispered back.
He gave a faint smile, his gaze locked on mine.
“Then get ready, because I don’t plan on stopping here.”
Before I could breathe, he kissed me again—deeper, longer—until every rational thought melted between us.
We walked to the bedroom in silence, though the quiet between us was anything but peaceful. Every step he took seemed to echo inside me. Colin closed the door, and the soft click made me shiver.
The air in that room was thick, warm, charged with something I couldn’t contain anymore.
He moved toward me slowly, as if afraid to touch me—and just as afraid not to. When our breaths mingled, I felt the heat of his skin and that scent of his that always undid me.
The first kiss was soft, hesitant. The second, firmer. By the third, there was no room left for doubt.
His hands slid up my back, guiding every movement, his touch hot enough to make my skin tingle. I felt his fingers at the nape of my neck, the brush of his nose against mine, the quiet sound of our breathing blending into one.
When we fell onto the bed, there was no rush—just a quiet urgency that made the air hum around us. The cool sheets clashed with the warmth of his body. Every motion was unhurried, as if he wanted to memorize the path between my skin and his breath.
The minutes that followed were deep, intense, unforgettable. The world seemed to dissolve with every touch, every whisper, every pause where his gaze met mine and said everything words never could.
It felt like fire and calm at once, as if time itself had split in two—the before him, and the after that moment.
My heart raced, my body gave in, and for a second, everything went silent—only the sound of our breathing, the heat, and the certainty that nothing would ever be the same.
The air between us still seemed to vibrate. Every movement he made was slow, careful, as if any sudden motion could break what we’d just created. He ran a hand through my hair, tucking a loose strand behind my ear, and that simple touch was enough to ignite everything again.
We stayed there, breathing the same air, trying to understand what the silence meant. His chest rose and fellquickly, and I could feel the rhythm syncing with mine. When I looked at him, he was already watching me—dark eyes, intense, full of everything words could never contain.
“Isabelle…” he whispered, as if my name was the only thing he could say.
I didn’t answer.
I just touched his face, and he closed his eyes for a moment, resting his forehead against mine. The gesture was simple, but it carried a tenderness that unraveled me completely.
He drew in a long breath, trying to steady himself, but his hand was still on my waist, his skin burning against mine.The space between us was far too small to pretend indifference.
Then he pulled me close again.
The kiss came slow, deep—like recognition. No rush, no fear, just time stretching between one touch and the next. With each second, it felt like the whole world existed right there, in the small space between our mouths.
When he finally pulled away, his eyes stayed on mine.
“This shouldn’t have happened,” he murmured.
“But it did,” I said.
He gave a faint smile, his gaze tired but warm.
“So what now?”
“Now… I don’t know,” I confessed, my voice hoarse. “I just know I don’t want it to end.”
Colin took a slow breath, and silence returned—softer this time. The room, still heavy with heat and dim light, felt suspended in time.
He pulled me against his chest, and I let him. There were no more questions, no space for regret—only the weight of what we had just begun.
