She whispered near his ear—close enough that… see more

The room was noisy, voices overlapping, but when she leaned in, the rest of it vanished. She didn’t speak at once. She let the pause build, let the closeness itself do most of the work. The edge of her hair brushed against his temple, carrying with it the faintest trace of perfume, warm and faintly sweet. He could feel the heat of her breath on the side of his neck before he even registered the first word. It wasn’t what she said that mattered—it was how she said it, her tone low and steady, vibrating against the small, sensitive places he couldn’t control. His skin prickled with awareness, his chest tight, as though he was holding on to something invisible but heavy. She didn’t pull back right away. She lingered, her lips close enough that if he shifted, even by mistake, they might touch. When she finally moved away, it wasn’t sudden. It was gradual, as if she was making sure the ghost of her warmth would stay with him longer than her words. And it did. He couldn’t recall the full sentence she had whispered, but he remembered the feeling—sharp, magnetic, and impossible to ignore.