EMMALINE
We stare at each other. The air between us is small and sharp, like the space before a match is struck.
The intensity in his eyes, something hot and dangerous and blue, makes my heart race until it hurts.
My body feels like it’s on fire.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I only know I can’t stop.
Slowly, because my hands shake and because I want to feel this moment as long as I can, I lean in. I close the distance until I can taste him. His breath is warm and faintly metallic. I pause, close enough to catch the salt of it on my lips. My knees feel unsteady, but my resolve is a thin, fierce line.
He remains still. He watches me the way a man watches a storm roll in—parts of him alert, parts of him wanting it to pass. I take a sweet pull on his lower lip, small and testing. He do
