Novels by seichegeorgiana66

Erik Pov.The apartment is quiet.Kim’s curled against me on the couch, her head resting on my chest, our blanket tangled around our legs. She’s half-asleep, lips parted slightly, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as she dozes.It feels like everything has finally… settled.Her laugh earlier during dinner still rings in my head. She’s getting stronger. Her trust is coming back, piece by piece. She even called the little casserole she brought to the station “wife points,” blushing so hard I almost dropped my fork.I kiss the top of her head, breathing her in. God, she smells like home now.My phone buzzes on the coffee table.I frown. It’s nearly midnight. Only Maja or someone from the station would text this late.I gently slide out from under Kim and pick up the phone.Unknown Number.The message is a photo.My heart freezes.It’s Kim.Taken today.In the campus parking lot.The angle is high—sniper-like, from a rooftop or building. The photo is grainy but clear enough: she’s w

Kim Pov.The apartment is quiet now.No words. No movement. Just us.The storm that brought us together tonight has settled into something softer—something still heavy with emotion, but gentler, calmer. I’m tucked beneath Erik’s arm, wrapped in the blanket he pulled around us after helping me slip into one of his shirts. The sleeves are too long and the fabric smells like him. Like cedarwood and something faintly smoky. Comfort. Safety. Home.My cheek rests on his bare chest, and I can feel his heart beating steadily under my skin. His arm is curved tightly around my back, hand splayed protectively across my waist like he’s afraid I might vanish if he lets go.I close my eyes and breathe him in.God, how I missed this.Sleeping in his arms. Feeling like I belong there. Like I’m allowed to.And then the tears come.Slow, quiet at first. The kind that don’t even sting—just fall, as if they’ve been waiting all this time. I try to breathe through them, not wanting to break the peace betwe

Erik Pov.I don’t think I’ve ever driven faster in my life.The restaurant is five minutes from our place, maybe seven with lights. I make it in four. My hands grip the wheel tighter than they should. My jaw’s clenched. My mind’s already at home, already on her—thinking about the way she looked in that damn dress, about the heat of her skin when she brushed against me under the table, about how I’ve waited too long for this moment.Too long to touch her.Too long to feel her.When we pull into the parking lot, I don’t say a word. Neither does she. The tension is no longer just lingering—it’s burning. Heavy. Electrified. We’re both breathing like we just ran through a storm, and in a way, we have.The second we’re through the front door, I slam it shut behind us, catching her between it and me. I don’t even wait for her to turn around. My hands are already on her waist, spinning her to face me, lifting her off the floor like she weighs nothing. She gasps against my mouth, her legs inst

Erik Pov.I don’t know how much longer I can do this.This… careful dance. This torturous space between us. So close I can hear her breathing when we sleep, but not close enough to taste her skin. To slide my hand beneath her shirt. To press myself into the curve of her body and make her whisper my name again.God, I miss her moaning my name.I think about it more and more lately. The way she used to arch under me, nails biting into my shoulders, that desperate, breathless way she said “please” like she couldn’t take it a second longer. Like I was the only one who ever made her feel that way.It’s been weeks since I touched her like that. And now? Every glance, every brush of air between us feels like friction. Like my restraint is hanging by the thinnest goddamn thread.Tonight, we’re going to dinner with Maja. She wants to introduce us to her new boyfriend — some guy she’s been seeing for a couple of months, apparently. I said yes because Kim looked genuinely excited about it. And a

Kim Pov.Thank God it’s the weekend. No lectures, no Luca, no chaos. Just a little quiet... and maybe a chance to show Erik how much I mean what I’ve been saying — and doing — every day since the night everything shattered.He left early this morning, coffee half-drunk on the kitchen counter, tie still slightly crooked. He said he needed to get the team together — that they were close to solving the case of that little girl abused by her parents. I saw it in his face. That mix of fury and focus he wears when it’s personal.And I know... this one is personal. He sees himself in every broken child. Maybe he saw me once, too.So I made the casserole he loves. The one he always asked for when he had a hard week. It’s a small thing — warm, cheesy, familiar — but maybe it can remind him that I’m still here, still fighting, still his.At the precinct, the same kind receptionist gives me that motherly smile she always used to. “Kim, honey... I haven’t seen you in a while,” she says, her voice

Kim Pov.We didn’t talk much after dinner.Not because there was tension—no, that’s faded into something quieter—but because silence between us no longer feels dangerous. It’s starting to feel like comfort again.He’s on the couch, one hand resting on the backrest, the other absently scrolling through his phone. I sit across from him, legs folded beneath me, pretending to read, though I haven’t turned a page in ten minutes.I keep sneaking glances at him.At the way his shoulders rise and fall.At the way his eyes soften whenever I catch him looking back at me.There’s still a line between us, invisible but firm. We’ve learned to stay on our respective sides, not out of coldness, but out of respect for the wound we’re both still learning to dress without reopening.And yet… something’s shifting.Like we’re standing on the edge of something warmer, and neither of us is sure whether to lean into it—or run from it.He clears his throat. “Did you finish your project?”I blink, surprised b