Zane
I moved.
Not the most conscious decision. Not a choice weighed against consequences or the thousand reasons I should turn around and walk away.
Just a pure instinctive response to a question that had bypassed every defense I’d built.
Three strides and I was on her.
My hand cupped the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair as I dragged her mouth to mine.
My mouth was on hers in no time, not carefully exploring but desperately rummaging through it. And shattering all of the restraints I had gathered in the past days.
She made a sound against my mouth—surprise, maybe, or relief—and then she was kissing me back with equal fervor. Her hands fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer even though there was no space left between us.
I’d imagined this. Late at night when the
