23 Delen Lopende Voor volwassenenthis is my first time writing a book.
English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar or misspellings.
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At one point, Lizz reached around Sophie to grab a spoon, brushing against her hip, and froze.
So did Sophie.
Lizz straightened slowly, just a breath between them now. Sophie didn't move.
Their eyes met.
The air changed, sharp, electric.
Sophie's hand was still resting on the edge of the counter, knuckles brushing Lizz's. Lizz's breath hitched, gaze flicking from Sophie's eyes to her mouth and back again like she couldn't help it.
Neither of them spoke.
They didn't need to.
Sophie stepped back half an inch, not away, just enough to look up at Lizz more clearly. "Are we...?"
Lizz's voice was hoarse. "I don't know. Are we?"
Sophie's lips parted like she was going to say something, but instead, she reached up, brushing a stray curl from Lizz's face with deliberate slowness. Her fingertips lingered against her cheek, soft, burning.
Lizz swore under her breath and surged forward, but stopped just short. Their mouths hovered close, breaths mingling, the space between them alive with tension so thick it hurt.
"I keep thinking about the lake," Sophie murmured, voice low and wrecked. "How you looked at me. How you kissed me like..."
Lizz didn't let her finish. Her hands slid to Sophie's waist, gripping tight, grounding. "Say it."
Sophie's breath caught. "Like you needed me."
Lizz leaned in, mouth brushing her jaw. "I did."
"I still do, darling."
Sophie shuddered, eyes fluttering shut, her own hands moving to Lizz's shoulders, pulling her in, but still not quite closing the distance.
It was a slow burn, the kind that made the room feel ten degrees hotter.
Caught in that breathless middle ground where every brush of skin felt too intimate, too loaded. Lizz's thumb stroked slow circles against Sophie's hip. Sophie's nails curled gently against the back of her neck.
