17. Quinn #3
I pressed my hands to my mouth. “That was the most wonderful thing I’ve ever experienced.” I meant it. Entirely. No joke waiting behind it.
His expression changed as his gaze dropped to my arms, where goosebumps had taken over my skin.
Before I could say anything, Rafe stepped closer, his face tightening. “You’re cold.”
“I’m fine.”
“I should have told you to dress warmly.”
“I didn’t notice.”
“You’re shivering.”
“It’s from the awe.”
He shook his head. “You’re going to get hypothermia.”
“We weren’t up there long enough for hypothermia to set in.”
“But you’re cold.” He sounded almost angry, but not at me. At himself. At the fact that he had offered me the sky and forgotten the temperature attached to it.
Then his hands were on my arms.
Warm. Careful. Rubbing gently from shoulder to wrist, trying to bring heat back into my skin. The touch was practical, but that fact didn’t reach my heart.
His palms moved over my skin, and warmth spread beneath them, deeper than body heat, steady and controlled enough that I knew he was doing it on purpose. The chill receded almost at once.
I looked down, startled. “Are you… warming me?”
His hands paused for half a second. “A little.”
“That’s a dragon thing?”
“Restrained heat,” he said. “Useful in flight. Also for damaged locks, cold tea, and people who refuse to admit they’re shivering.”
“I said I was fine.”
“Exactly.”
I nearly laughed. But his hands were still on my arms, his face was too close, and the warmth settling into my skin felt like magic.
“I’m okay,” I murmured.
His hands stayed on my arms, and the rooftop was suddenly very still, as if the city sounds had all vanished to make the moment more momentous.
Then he released me, removed his coat, and wrapped it around my shoulders. It was heavy and warm and smelled faintly like him, clean wool and cold air and something darker I had no business trying to identify.
My heart did something I didn’t have a plan for.
It didn’t flutter or swoon. It folded inward, frightened by how badly it wanted.
I could joke about attraction. I could blame dry spells and stress and dragon novelty.
I could mock myself into some semblance of sense.
But standing there in Rafe’s coat after seeing the world from his back, all I could think was that the idea of him not being around suddenly felt like grief arriving early.
That terrified me.
“Come on,” he said, quieter now. “Let’s go inside.”
We went downstairs without speaking. I clutched his coat around me, and he stayed close enough that I could feel his attention without being crowded by it.
When we reached my apartment, Max was still sleeping exactly where we had left him, one paw over his nose, completely unaware that I had just had a life-altering experience.
Typical.
I opened the door and stepped inside, then reached for the coat to shrug it off.
“Keep it,” Rafe said.
I looked back. “Rafe.”
“You’re still cold.”
“This coat costs more than six months’ rent.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Do not fact-check my panic.”
His mouth softened. “Keep it.”
It should have sounded like an order or a rich man’s carelessness. Instead, it sounded like he needed to leave something warm with me because he had to leave himself.
I pulled the coat tighter around me. “Okay.”
The air changed again.
We were standing at my door, just inside the apartment, with Max asleep nearby and the city still humming beyond the window. Rafe looked at me, and I looked back, and all the reasons this was a bad idea stood around us like silent witnesses.
His jaw clenched.
I saw the decision before he even made it.
“Thank you,” he said. “For a wonderful day.”
The words were formal. Too formal for what had happened. Too careful for a man who had just flown me over the city and shown me the dragon’s-eye view of his life.
But his hand lifted and touched my shoulder once, over the coat. Lightly. Just enough pressure to make me feel how much he wasn’t doing.
Then he turned.
He was already in the hallway when my heart rebelled.
“Rafe.”
He stopped.
I stepped to the threshold, one hand braced on the doorframe. The hallway light made him look even more severe, even more unreachable, and I hated that I had asked him to stop without knowing what I was allowed to ask for next.
So, I told the truth I could survive.
“This was one of the best days of my life,” I said.
His face changed.
There was no smile. No easy answer. Just stillness, and then something in his eyes that made my throat ache.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome, Quinn.”
My name in his voice was going to be a problem. Likely a permanent one.
He inclined his head, turned, and walked down the hall.
I stayed in the doorway until he vanished from sight, then I closed the door and let out a giddy sigh.
Max opened one eye.
“I know,” I whispered.
He huffed and went back to sleep.
I leaned against the door in Rafe’s coat, still cold and too warm everywhere that mattered, and tried to remember all the reasons I was supposed to be careful.
For once, none of them felt big enough.