June’s Point of View
His lips touched mine, gentle at first, like he was afraid I’d break. But I didn’t pull away. I pulled him closer.
The kiss deepened, slowly, tenderly—then all at once, like the air between us had finally caught fire. His good arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his chest, and I could feel the beat of his heart through my own skin. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was everything we hadn’t said. Every unsent message. Every stolen glance. Every moment we had wanted to fall apart and chose not to.
I let my hands wander over him, careful around the bruises but refusing to treat him like he was made of glass. Dos wasn’t fragile—but right now, he needed to be touched like he mattered. And I needed to feel him like he was mine.
His forehead rested against mine, breat
