(Darius)
After Emma and I kissed, I led her to our room so that we could carry on if you know what I mean.
I pulled her closer, letting her warmth seep into my cold skin. She was here, with me, and for a moment, I allowed myself to believe that maybe there was hope after all. But as she kissed me, the guilt I carried—heavy and suffocating—threatened to take over again. Still, I didn’t pull away. I needed this. I needed her.
I ran my hands down her back, feeling the softness of her skin, the curve of her hips. She was everything I had left, everything I didn’t deserve. But she didn’t see it that way. She was here, pressing herself against me, kissing me like she knew I needed to feel alive again.
“I need you, Darius,” she whispered against my lips, her breath hot and sweet.
It took ev
