Page 112 of Silent Shadows

And suddenly we’re standing there in the middle of the moonlit trees looking at each other, more vulnerable and raw than we should be.

“You keep doing that,” I say quietly.

“What?”

“Seeing me.”

Her expression shifts at that.

Like the words landed somewhere tender.

“That’s because you let me,” she says.

Wind brushes through the trees around us.

The world narrows.

And then Daisy steps closer.

Just enough that I can smell her shampoo and feel warmth radiating off her skin in the cold night air.

My entire body tenses.

“You know,” she murmurs, “for someone who always has something to say, you go very quiet at interesting moments.”

“I’m trying to behave.”

“Why?”

Because if I stop behaving, I’m going to kiss you until I forget my own name.

Because I already feel dangerously close to losing control around you.

Because today something cracked open in me and now every instinct I have keeps screaming “mine, mine, mine” in ways that feel concerningly irrational for a rational person like myself.

Instead, I say, “The crew’s twenty feet away.”

Daisy’s mouth curves slightly.

“So? I can be quiet if you can.”

My pulse stutters.

She reaches up, slow and careful, then touches the front of my jacket.

And it’s so gentle.

Like she’s choosing me.

That’s what does it. She’s not pushing me. She’s soft and intentional.

My restraint snaps clean in half.

I kiss her with enough force that she stumbles backward into the nearest tree with a sharp breath.

Hands on her waist, fingers digging into her thighs. I need her closer.

Daisy makes this sound against my mouth that goes straight to the most primitive part of my brain.