"I—I can't," Kyan whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his own heart.
But Nico didn't let go. He lifted himself just slightly from the bed, his tousled hair falling into his eyes, lips parted in that maddening, dangerous smirk.
"You already did half the work," Nico murmured, his gaze trailing slowly down Kyan's form. "Carrying me up here like that... you sure you're not dying to know what happens next?"
Kyan swallowed hard, cheeks burning. He tried again to pull his hand away, but Nico tugged him closer—slowly, until their knees touched and Kyan was standing between his legs.
"Still gonna run?" Nico asked, voice low and silky as sin. His free hand lifted lazily, fingers brushing along Kyan's waist, just grazing the edge of his apron.
Kyan shivered.
His lips parted to answer, but no words came. The room felt hot and quiet. Like time itself was holding its breath.
Nico leaned in—just enough for Kyan to feel his breath on his neck.
