Page 12 of Night for Ruthless Whispers

“And I told you I'm not a helpless princess. I can take care of myself.”

Ethan stuffs his hands in his pockets, facing me. “Alright then. Now that we've clarified our roles in the story, Ms. Prescott, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Hastily I swallow but hold back my nerves, lifting my head bravely.

“You said not to get lost.”

His brow crinkles, then an almost imperceptible smile tugs at Ethan's lips. “Did I?”

I nod. “Two days ago, do you remember?”

“I do, yes...”

Suddenly, something inside his body seems to calm down, and I sense his posture relaxing.

How is it possible that in such a short time he has managed to win me over?I think to myself, impressed and a little scared.

One of Ethan's hands reaches up to my face. He seems hesitant, but after a moment, he lets his fingers wander and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear.

“I may have said that... I'm glad you're such an obedient woman,” he teases.

Unable to help myself, I snort under my breath. “Oh, I'm not obedient at all,” I object, placing my sunglasses over my eyes. “But I'm usually determined and go after what I'm interested in.”

“Does that mean you're interested in me?” Again, Ethan raises an eyebrow, and with that he lifts one of the corners of his lips. He looks amused and interested.

“If Mohammed won't go to the mountain...” I start to say.

Immediately, Ethan bursts out laughing. “You're hopeless, Kristine,” he says decisively.

But as payment for my boldness, I receive an unexpected reward when Ethan leans in. His lips find mine, a gentle collision that feels like the answer to a question I didn't know I was asking.

The world around us blurs into irrelevance. The only thing that exists in this moment is Ethan and the tender way his mouth moves against mine.

I feel my body respond, every nerve ending firing as if they're coming alive for the very first time. His kiss deepens, and I'm lost in the sensation, in the warmth of his lips, the faint taste of coffee lingering from his morning.

It's a slow dance, sensual and unhurried. My hands find their way to his hair, thick curls between my fingers, pulling him closer, not wanting even a sliver of space between us.

The cold of winter fades away, replaced by the heat that pools within me at his touch. Ethan's hand cradles my face, thumb brushing over my cheekbone in a caress that sends shivers down my spine. He's everywhere, surrounding me, and I'm drowning in the best way possible.

Our breaths mingle, a testament to the intensity building between us. I can feel the steady beat of his heart against my chest as he pulls me closer. There's a need building within me, one that whispers for more—for everything Ethan is willing to give.

Time seems to stand still as we explore each other with an urgency that speaks volumes. His other hand trails down my back, tracing the line of my spine through the fabric of my coat before resting on my waist. It's a possessive hold that tells me I'm exactly where I belong.

I've never been kissed like this before—like I'm a treasure that he's afraid to lose. It's both exhilarating and terrifying because with each passing second, I realize more and more how much I want this man. How much I crave his touch, his presence.

How did it happen so fast?

When we finally part for air, our foreheads rest against each other as we try to catch our breath. His brown eyes are dark withemotion, and they lock onto mine with an intensity that nearly knocks me off my feet.

“I'm not usually so forward,” I whisper, but there's no regret in my voice—only wonder.

Ethan smirks, “I could get used to it.”

And just like that, with one simple kiss, Ethan has shifted something within me—something profound and terrifyingly beautiful.

“Does this mean you're interested in me too?” I inquire. One of his hands tangles in my hair, his warm breath tracing my lips like a prelude to another kiss.

“I'm not the good guy, Kristine.” Ethan steps back, and I resist the temptation to reach for him again.

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