The night was alive with whispers.
The kind you only hear when you're sneaking around—when every creak in the floorboard feels like a threat.
Max's message had been simple.
Max:
Tonight. Roof.
She should have said no.
Her rational side told her that slipping away in the middle of a family gathering to meet her cousin on the rooftop was a terrible idea.
But the part of her that ached for his touch—the part that had been restless since the guesthouse—had already slipped her shoes on.
When she climbed the narrow ladder, the cool wind rushed against her face. And then she saw him—leaning against the railing, moonlight brushing over his jaw, his hands shoved in his pockets like he was trying to look casual.
"You're late," he murmured.
"You're impatient," she shot back.
His eyes caught hers, dark and dangerous. "I had a good reason."
"What reason?" she asked, pretending not to know.
He stepped forward until the toes of his shoes touched hers. "You."
She didn't have time to respond before his mouth was on hers.
It wasn't slow tonight. It wasn't testing or careful.
It was pure want—his hands framing her face, lips moving against hers like they belonged there.
She melted into him, her fingers curling in his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no space between them. She could feel the heat of him even through their clothes.
When he deepened the kiss, her breath hitched. His hand slipped to the small of her back, guiding her closer until her chest pressed against his. The wind whipped around them, but she barely felt it.
All she could feel was him.
When his lips left hers, it wasn't to let her breathe—it was to trail along her jaw and down her neck. She clutched his shoulders, a quiet gasp escaping her when his teeth grazed her skin.
"Max…" she whispered, her voice almost lost to the wind.
"Say it again," he murmured, his breath warm against her.
"Max."
His grip tightened. "I want to hear you say my name when you're mine."
Her knees felt weak. She leaned into him, hiding her face in his shoulder for a second, just to keep from completely falling apart.
"We can't," she said finally, her voice trembling.
"We already are," he replied, not stepping back.
And that was the truth. It didn't matter if they hadn't crossed every line—they'd crossed the only one that mattered. They loved each other.
If the family knew… everything would explode.
Later that night
(Max)
He replayed the rooftop kiss in his mind over and over, every detail burned into him.
But it wasn't enough.
Not anymore.
Max didn't just want stolen moments and rooftop touches.
He wanted to wake up with her hair on his pillow.
He wanted her laughter filling a home they built together.
He wanted everything.
And he knew, without question, that nothing—not his parents, not the rules—was going to stop him.