His breath brushed my cheek, warm and unsteady. I didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was the gravity between us — the kind that had been pulling at my ribs since the moment he walked back into my life. All I knew was that one second I was sitting stiffly on his lap, trying to pretend I wasn’t trembling… …and the next, his mouth was on mine. Not gentle. Not tentative. Fierce. Like he’d been starving for ten years and finally found something worth breaking for.
A sound escaped me — soft, involuntary — and that was all it took. His hand slid up my spine, fingers splaying between my shoulder blades, pulling me closer until my chest pressed against his. My hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him deeper into the kiss, anger and longing and memory colliding
