I think I stopped breathing the moment that Gideon’s lips brushed over mine, my lungs turning to heavy stone in my chest; petrified by the fact that he was kissing me. Gideon, handsome and sweet, Gideon, was kissing me. A poor little no one. All with his fingers daggering into the base of my skull like he’d completely forgotten himself.
Or like he never wanted to let me go.
I hoped he never did.
Despite that, his lips were just as soft as they looked. As soft as the part of myself that was melting into his touch, my insides turning liquid and molten. Till it was steadily spreading between my thigh, ramping up like a slow-burning fire.
His mouth was tentative and testing, brushing and stroking. So thorough as he mapped the shape and texture and taste of me – charting new and unexplo
