Between The Lines

Chapter 137: Symphony Of Desire

Rebecca's POV (1st Person):

I couldn't take my eyes off him. The way the soft glow from the fire lit up his face, casting shadows across his sharp features. He was sitting so casually, leaning back against the couch, one arm draped lazily behind me. But it was the little things that were driving me crazy.

Lane stared at the fire, completely lost in thought, and I couldn't help but admire how the light flickered against his skin. His jaw clenched slightly as he raised his glass of wine, his fingers holding the glass with an ease that made my stomach flip. The muscles in his arm rippled with the simple movement, and I found myself completely entranced by how effortlessly he looked, just... existing.

I watched the way his lips curled around the rim of the glass as he took a slow sip, his eyes still locked on the fire, deep in thought. God, how could he make something as simple as drinking wine look so... hot?

I bit my lip, trying not to make it obvious that I was staring. But it was impossible not to. Everything about him in this moment—his casual posture, the way his fingers flexed around the glass, the subtle tension in his jaw—it all seemed to pull me in.

His muscles shifted again as he lowered the glass, the veins in his arm becoming more pronounced, and I could feel my cheeks heat up. My gaze drifted down to his chest, the way his shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, and I couldn't stop the thoughts racing through my mind. How was it possible for someone to look so effortlessly perfect?

I shifted slightly, pressing my knees closer to my chest, pulling the blanket tighter around me as if that would somehow help me focus on anything other than him. But it didn't.

Every time he took a sip of wine, I found my eyes drawn back to his mouth, to the way his lips moved, the subtle curve of his smile when he set the glass back down on the table beside us.

"Enjoying the view?"

I jolted at the sound of his voice, my heart racing as I realized I'd been caught. Lane turned to look at me, an amused smirk playing on his lips, his eyes darkening with that familiar teasing glint.

I blinked, trying to recover from being so completely obvious. "Uh... I... yeah. The fire's nice."

He chuckled softly, and the sound sent a shiver down my spine. "The fire, huh?" His hand brushed against mine, and I could feel the heat of his skin even through the blanket. "I'm pretty sure you weren't looking at the fire."

I swallowed, my face burning now as I glanced away, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make me sound like a complete idiot. But nothing came to mind, especially not when he was looking at me like that, with that knowing smile and those piercing eyes.

"I wasn't staring," I mumbled, even though we both knew it was a lie.

Lane shifted beside me, his arm sliding from the back of the couch to rest against the small of my back, pulling me a little closer. He leaned in just enough that I could feel his breath on my neck, and it made my whole body tense in anticipation.

"Uh-huh," he whispered, his voice low and teasing. "Sure, you weren't."

I bit my lip again, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I turned my head slightly to meet his gaze, but I regretted it instantly. The way he was looking at me—with that intensity, that spark—made me forget how to breathe.

"You're impossible," I muttered, my voice a little shakier than I intended.

His smile widened, and he brought his glass back up, taking another slow, deliberate sip of wine, never breaking eye contact. It was like he knew exactly what he was doing to me, and he was enjoying every second of it.