Renna Rose Lancaster is the girl people stare at like she belongs in a glass case, carved with angel-soft beauty, a life airbrushed into unattainable perfection. But Renna knows perfection is nothing but a golden prison, coated in pretty lies that k...
"The way you hold your gaze, steady and sure— There's something about it, something I can't ignore. You don't falter, you don't turn away, And that certainty, love, makes me stay.
When you step closer, even from afar, Something inside me hums like a song- Soft, familiar, the kind that lingers, The one my lips have known all along.
That slow, knowing smile you wear, It carves its place, deep and rare. And when I look into your eyes, I see— Not just my dreams, but all of me.
The evening sky shifts in your name, Clouds drifting, drawn to your flame. Even the ground beneath my feet, Moves with the rhythm of how you breathe.
I have seen the sun bathe in rivers, But nothing like the fire in your skin. I have stood still, waiting, knowing— That you, love, would pull me in.
Your scent lingers, soaked into my skin, Sinking deep, where your hands have been. In the rise of my breath, in the hush of my chest, You've left your name, you've made your nest.
The heat you spilled still clings to my bloom, A whisper of you where my innocence lies. Marked yours to the core— Not a girl, just yours, forevermore."
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The rain was still going, louder now, like the sky couldn't shut up about last night. Not a storm, just steady—like someone drumming their fingers on glass because they knew I'd never sleep again the same way. Not after this.
I wasn't even lying on Aadam so much as poured over him. My bones had turned traitor, melted into his stupid broad chest like wax. I could feel the vibration of his breathing under my cheek, each inhale pushing me up a fraction, each exhale dragging me down again. Like a seesaw I never wanted to get off.
His arms were locked around me, absolutely locked, like he'd decided I was his favorite hoodie and he was never giving me back to the laundry. One of his hands was still in my hair, tugging little strands, absent-minded, like he couldn't not touch me. And every pull sent this odd, fizzy current down my spine, like my whole body was one live wire and he was the idiot who dared to grab it.
I tilted my face up, just a bit, and there he was. Curls wrecked, lips curved into the most unbearable half-smile, eyes already open like he hadn't slept at all. Watching me. Watching me like staring at my face was a sport he'd been training for.
"You're staring," he rasped, his voice gravelly with sleep, and somehow hotter for it.
