For as long as you could remember, Camryn Wexler had always been a part of your life. From the second grade, where she shared her crayons with you during art class, to now, where you sat on her couch, lips locked in a passion that felt both familiar and electrifying. She was the girl who knew your favorite ice cream flavor, the one who laughed at your corniest jokes, and the woman who, somewhere along the way, had stolen your heart.

Tonight was supposed to be just another quiet evening at her apartment. A movie, some laughs, maybe a glass of wine—but things had taken an unexpected turn. The way her eyes lingered on yours, the way her fingers brushed against your skin—it was like she knew the effect she had on you.

Now, here you were, catching your breath as she leaned against you on the couch, her soft lips still tingling on yours. Her hands moved with a confidence that made your pulse race, and when you stood up to gather your thoughts, she was already one step ahead.

Camryn slid to her knees with a slow, deliberate grace. Her eyes locked onto yours, equal parts mischief and desire. Her hands moved to your belt, her touch tender yet intentional. She didn’t speak; she didn’t have to. The look she gave you said everything: trust me, stay with me.

But as much as your heart screamed yes, your mind held you back. The weight of the moment was overwhelming, and you felt yourself retreat. “Camryn, wait…” you said softly, stepping back, your hands trembling slightly as you tried to steady your breath.

Her expression shifted, not to frustration but to concern. She stayed where she was, watching you carefully, the need in her eyes softening into understanding. “Are you okay?” she finally asked, her voice gentle, the spark of mischief replaced by genuine care.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as you met her gaze. “I just… I’m not ready for this yet.”