My back hit the front door, the sturdy wood firm against me, and not even a heartbeat later, Will’s chest was flush against mine again. His mouth was on mine, his tongue moving with mine like it had always belonged there. His hands were everywhere—tangled in my hair, gripping my waist, squeezing my ass, and cupping my breast like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to be most. Every inch of me was alive with his touch. My own hands were locked behind his neck, my fingers threading through the short strands of his hair. And every time I raked my nails across his scalp, a low, desperate moan vibrated against my lips.
How we even managed to get back here, to the cabin, was a blur. Everything since I had blurted out that I’d been in love with him for years—something that was humiliatingly, pai
