Cheryl’s POV
The kiss was dangerous.
It was deep and slow, the kind that didn’t ask permission, the kind that knew it already had me. His mouth moved over mine like he had something to prove, like he was staking a claim he’d never truly let go of. His hand gripped the back of my neck, fingers tangled in my hair, and his other arm curled tightly around my waist. It should have felt wrong—immoral, reckless, maybe even pathetic.
But I kissed him back.
God help me, I kissed him like he was oxygen and I was seconds from suffocating. Like I was trying to feel something, anything, that would pull me out of the numb spiral I’d been trapped in for weeks. My head was spinning, my heart a mess of thunder and heat and grief. It was all too familair, this very moment - I have lived it before and it
