The door clicked open, and Zara looked up instinctively, her hand still patting Leo's back.
Winter stepped inside, and immediately, something felt off.
His shoulders were rigid, his expression unreadable. Not his usual composed, thoughtful silence—this was different. His jaw was tight, his movements controlled in a way that set her on edge.
She frowned.
"You're back," she said stiffly, trying to gauge his mood. Had something happened there?
He crossed the space between them in quick, determined strides, and then his hands were on her face, pulling her in, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that stole all the breath from her lungs.
For a second, her thoughts scattered.
The tension, the annoyance at how easily he had left, the stiff frustration in her spine—all of it vanished, replaced by the heat of his mouth, the firm press of his body against hers.
She kissed him back, because how could she not?
