[BL] CRAVING HIM: Addicted to His Voice Chapter 245: The Distance That Taught Us

~Zayn’s POV~

"You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen," he breathed, his voice rich with sincere adoration.

He guided softly to the parked car, his hand resting warmly at the small of my back, and carefully opened the back door for .

I slid in, and Evric followed, settling beside . As the driver pulled smoothly into the traffic, Evric turned his entire body toward .

"I know we have drivers for convenience," he murmured, his thumb gently tracing the line of my jaw, "but I wanted us to sit back here so I could do this."

He leaned closer, his eyes locked on mine, and asked, "Can I kiss you?"

God, that sounded like he had never asked for a kiss before. The simple, respectful question was more potent than any grand demand. I smiled, but quickly hid it. Zayn, calm down, I told myself. I took a deep breath, regained my composure, and nodded once: "Yes."

He stared at , his smile widening into sothing gentle and victorious, then he finally closed the gap. He kissed —a slow, deep, intentional kiss that felt like a powerful apology and a firm commitnt.

This wasn’t the desperate, rushed contact from the other night; this was the kiss of a man who was mature enough to wait and appreciate the mont.

God, I can’t stop blushing. Zayn, stop, you have to maintain the distance, the pragmatic voice in my head insisted, but I couldn’t keep that joy inside .

I couldn’t hide the smile that burst forth. Everything felt new, precious, and utterly right. I finally understood what he ant: this was our first date. The one where we weren’t afraid of the world anymore.

Evric watched my face light up, a deep, satisfied smile spreading across his face. Then he turned to gaze out the window, quietly savoring the mont. We both giggled softly, the sound light and free, as the car beca our little cocoon of happiness on the way to the restaurant.

We reached the restaurant, a place I had only ever seen pictures of—a sprawling, glass-walled structure built over the city, glowing like a diamond in the dark.

The car stopped, and the driver imdiately opened my door. Evric stepped out first, and instead of walking ahead, he waited. He extended his hand, palm up, toward .

"May I?" he asked, his eyes soft.

I slipped my hand into his, giving him the permission he had never asked for before. We walked across the marble entrance, hands laced together, making no effort to hide. The simple act of holding his hand in public, knowing the world could see us, felt like a monuntal victory.

A maître d’ instantly led us to a private elevator. When the doors opened, it revealed the top floor dining area. It wasn’t just a VIP section; Evric had booked the entire space. The floor was bathed in the warm, ambient light of dozens of candles, and a single table sat in the center, overlooking the shimring skyline. He had turned a bustling, high-end restaurant into an intimate, personal stage just for our dinner.

"Just for us, babe," he whispered, pressing a quick, proud kiss to my temple.

He held my chair for , settling into the velvet seat before taking his own. He picked up the elaborate nu, but instead of ordering for both of us—a habit he often fell into, he handed the nu to first.

"Take your ti, my love," he instructed, his voice gentle. "Order exactly what you want. No rush."

The al that followed was nothing short of perfect. Evric engaged fully, not once reaching for his phone or allowing his mind to drift to business. He asked about my new restaurant, about Kai, Liana, and even about my mother. He listened, truly listened, to my answers.

At one point, a small sar of chocolate found its way onto the corner of my mouth after a bite of the decadent soufflé. Before I could even raise my napkin, Evric was reaching across the table. His thumb, warm and deliberate, wiped the spot away.

"You’re a ss, darling," he murmured, his gaze soft as he watched the spot disappear. He didn’t mock ; it was the quiet, attentive gesture of a man savoring every tiny detail of my presence. It was the simple, sweet intimacy of a couple deeply in love.

It was these quiet monts, the respectful request, the full attention, the gentle touch, that demonstrated his growth more effectively than any dramatic public proposal could have.

After the waiters had silently cleared the dessert plates and topped off our glasses with sparkling water, a hush fell over the room. The city lights outside seed to dim slightly, turning our central table into a private, emotional spotlight.

Evric reached across the table and took my hand again, this ti holding it gently, reverently, his thumb tracing slow circles over my knuckles. The playful, charming man from the beginning of the evening was gone, replaced by soone raw and profoundly serious.

He looked at , and his eyes, the sa brilliant, possessive eyes that had terrified monts before, were now swimming with unshed tears.

"Zayn," he started, and his voice cracked, forcing him to clear his throat. "I appreciate you. I tell you you’re the most beautiful, the most patient, the kindest man I’ve ever known. I’ve said those words a thousand tis since the day we t, but I never understood what they actually ant."

He squeezed my hand. "The distance you asked for... leaving my house. It was the best thing you could have done. It broke , but it broke open, not apart. It finally made see myself."

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he didn’t even try to hide it. "I’ve been a bad boyfriend, Zayn. I haven’t been a man at all. I was demanding, controlling, possessive, and I treated your body like it was an entitlent. Like it was just another luxury I bought and owned."