“Why is it always you?” I said softly, and Alex smiled.
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll never know the answer to that.”
I picked up his arms, muscular and strong, and pulled them around me, let him hold me to him. I told myself I was letting him; that I wasn’t kissinghim, that I wasn’t holdinghim.
But before I knew it, I’d thrown my arms around his neck, and then I could no longer deny my own agency, as my hand reached up to touch the soft skin on his cheek, to feel his face, to feel his well-defined cheekbones.
He slipped his hand under my blouse, and when I felt his hand pressed against my bare skin, I knew that I wanted him, that some force of desire had taken me completely into his charge, that there was no way back, only forward through the troubled feelings in my heart.
Together, we
