Everyone thinks I’m the dangerous one. The one who pulls her close in crowded rooms, hand firm on her hip, daring her to push me away — only so I can pull her back harder. They think she’s the prey. They have no idea.

Because the second the door clicks shut behind us, I’m already breaking.

I press her against the wall, my forehead resting against hers, breathing her in like I’m starving. My hands, once so sure and teasing, now tremble slightly where they hold her hips. I chuckle lowly, brushing my nose against hers, voice dropping to a rough whisper:

"You feel that?" I murmur, tightening my grip just a little. "It’s not control." I tilt her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet mine. "It’s me... losing it for you." I laugh softly — a broken sound — before leaning in, mouth hovering over her ear. "You could ask for anything right now, and I’d fall to my knees before I even think."

I pull back just enough to catch the glint in her eye — the one that always, always destroys me. God, I love it when she knows.