E SKETCH SHE WA

t mean to st

an had left his sketchpad on the corner of the desk while he went to grab coffe

tly open, a few pages flipped

o, hair falling into her face, eyes focused, lips pressed in concentration. The sketch

stroke, every shadow, every detail revealed something Dean never spoke aloud-a perce

tch showed her laughing, alone in the office, eyes bright but tinged with exha

s. Harder than she lets anyon

his way. To capture her not just physically, but emotionally, in lines and

e shown this to her? Why had

ld, and she had intruded. And yet, the fact that he saw her, truly

ver shown anyone: moments of fatigue, frustration, fleeting joy, tiny smiles no one noticed. And i

chaotic, impossible, infuriating. But now... she saw

surged in Sophia. She quickly closed th

e in hand, smile bright. "Find anyt

She tried to speak casuall

rly sensing something. "Hm

forcing a small smil

her, perceptive as alway

e admit what she'd found? Should she confront the

it. "Nothing importa

s coffee down and leaned against the desk. "You know," he said casually, "sometimes I think peo

know she had seen the sketches, ye

in Sophia's mind. She couldn't stop thinking about the sketches-the vulnerabilit

hovered over the sketchpad, the soft furrow of his b

ow, for the first time, she saw him fully. And the thought of him seeing her as she r

to process the torrent of emotions. She stepped into

course. Always nea

" he asked

mitted, eyes fixed on the ci

ere. "I get it," he said softly. "Moments like that... the

his proximity, the way he understoo

he street caught their attention. A

otective instincts kicking in.

residue of intimacy, the vulnerability of the

unding her. "Stay close," he said quietly

ve screamed danger, but beneath it, somet

n the sketches, how much she wanted to admit that the vu

cross the street was pat

. Too close," he murmured. "And whatever

emotions, the almost-moment-they all co

ows between them, but the shadowy threat lurking outside escalates, reminding them that desire and danger are now inseparably inte

a barely noticed. Her mind kept drifting back to the sketches-the

ntive, his hand brushing hers occasio

dmitted finally, voice

, eyes widening sligh

is gaze. "I didn't mean to. I j

their eyes met. "You saw me," he said softly. "Not just the

dn't feel brave. She felt exposed,

" she asked, fear cre

ee. And now... you know why I sketch. Why I capture. Because the world

d shock. He wasn't joking. He wasn't teas

I feel it too. More than I should. And seeing... all of

r fingers. The contact was electric, ground

d, voice low and intense, "that I noti

ntimacy-a distant footstep, deliberat

all humor and ease evaporating. "They're

zzying knot. The vulnerability exposed by the sketches s

d movement-a dark figure, deliberate, pati

us for weeks," he whispered. "Testing us, waiti

hes, the confessions, the sparks be

o?" she asked, her vo

ense and unwavering. "We f

painfully in her

ord, she heard promise, protection, a

and twisting as they went. Every instinct screame

hind a stack of crates. "They're watching. T

The emotional intimacy of the sketches, the almost-confessions, now combined wi

rief second. "Seeing you vulnerable... it's a pri

hard. "I...

the vulnerability between them explode into something undeniable. But the

w streets, silent and alert. Every movem

e," he murmured. "They think fear will wi

rk or in attraction-they were partners in survival. The sketches had revealed v

hand. "Together,"

d faintly.

the man who had invaded her structured life and unsettled her eve

ly-a tall figure, hooded, deliberate, patient. It stepped into the dim streetligh

hey've been closer than

ided. The sketches, the intimate confessions, the sparks b

and, a gesture delibe

No more almosts," he whispered. "Whatever

had been revealed, the vulnerability exposed-but now, the sh

fear and longing, that nothing-neither de

re. But the lurking threat escalates to a personal confrontation, forcing them to navigate vulnerability, attraction, a