When he sat me down at the edge of his bed, the world felt impossibly small.
This was where he slept.
Where he dreamt.
Where he had been alone for far too long.
But not anymore.
The kiss that followed was not hurried. It was cherished. It was everything we had held back since the moment we had met at the market, poured into a single moment—his mouth felt warm and sure against mine, my hands in his hair, his breath shaking as control finally slipped not into chaos, but into us.
Mates, finally coming together as one.
We quickly got rid of most of our clothes, shredding fabric before our hands needed to feel each other all over again, because it felt as if I was about to die if I wouldn't be able to touch him any sooner. And then we were kissing again. Swirling tongues and roaming
