WHERE TO NOW? (M/M) 18+

Chapter 45

The Line I Won't Cross.

Upstairs, sitting on the end of my bed, I clutched desperately at my chest, trying to calm my racing heart. The smile that was plastered on my lips probably made me look like an insane person, giggling to myself like an absolute lunatic, but I couldn't control it.

"Holy crap," I muttered under my breath to no-one in particular, unable to comprehend the gravity of what just unfolded.

Finally.

Finally he'd opened up.

I flopped back onto the bed, pressing my hands over my face, my heart still hammering against my ribs like it hadn't quite caught up with the fact that I was no longer standing in front of him. Every second of that moment replayed in my mind—the way he looked at me, the way his voice had dropped, the quiet desperation woven into his words.

And then there was the way he touched me.

Soft. Careful. Like I was something delicate, something he shouldn't be holding, but couldn't help himself from reaching for.

I let out a muffled groan into my palms, kicking my legs out in frustration. "What the hell was that?"

He had told me to come upstairs, and I had listened, but I wanted to go back down. Badly. Because now I knew. I knew what was beneath all that restraint, beneath the cool, composed exterior. And now, knowing that—seeing it—there was no way I could just sit here like none of it had happened.

I pulled my hands away from my face, staring up at the ceiling, trying to breathe past the giddy, nervous energy buzzing through me.

This wasn't just a shift. It was a collapse of everything I thought I knew about Damien.

I rolled onto my side, hugging my pillow against my chest, as if it would do anything to ground me. I felt like I was vibrating, like every part of me was tuned into him still, to whatever was happening downstairs.

A small voice in the back of my mind whispered that maybe I should be worried. That maybe, whatever had made his hands shake, whatever had flickered through his darkening gaze, wasn't just about me.

But, god, I didn't care.

Because for the first time, I had seen him. The real him. And he had let me.

And there was no coming back from that.

He had shown me that I was important, that without a shadow of a doubt, he was just as aware of me as I was of him.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sucking in a breath as if that would do anything to calm the wild, restless energy still coursing through me.

But it didn't.

Nothing did.

Because this—this was something irreversible.

Damien wasn't just some passing thought, some fleeting interest that I could shake off if I tried hard enough. He was rooted deep, an undeniable force that had already worked his way into me long before this moment. And now, knowing what I knew—seeing him stripped of that quiet, impenetrable wall—there was no pretending I could ever unsee it.

The connection between us felt undeniable now—tangible in a way it hadn't been before.

I sat up, raking a hand through my hair, my fingers trembling slightly. "Shit," I whispered to myself, because the realisation was sinking in faster than I could brace for it.