Tessa.
Robert didn't move right away. His forehead remained pressed to mine, a warm, unyielding weight that seemed to anchor me to the moment. I could feel the rhythm of his uneven breathing, hear the subtle catch of air that hinted at something unspoken. It was as if he was holding himself back, restraining some reckless impulse that threatened to escape with a single word or gesture. His lips parted slightly, then closed again, and I wondered if he was rehearsing what he wanted to say, trying to measure it against reason. Or maybe against fear, fear of losing control, fear of letting me slip through his grasp.
