He was kissing me. His lips were on mine, hungry and slow—and I wasn’t stopping him. I should’ve pushed him away. I should’ve reminded him who I was. But I didn’t. I let myself melt into him.
Earlier, he had friends over drinking, and I’d already gone to bed. I thought I’d be alone. But when I woke up, he was lying beside me, fully awake, his eyes dark with desire. He didn’t smell of alcohol—he smelled clean, like he’d just showered. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I whispered, though my voice lacked conviction.
“But I am,” he murmured, brushing my cheek, then trailing his fingers down to my neck. “I’ve waited. I've given you space. But every time, you pull away. Tell me, Diana... how long are you going to pretend you don’t want this?”
His voice was dee
