Lior’s lips are soft against mine. There’s nothing urgent about the way he kisses me—no rush, no heat demanding more. Just warmth.
Gentle and slow, like the way moonlight creeps across the porch. His fingers trace the side of my jaw, tilting my face just enough so he can deepen the kiss.
And I let him.
The world feels quieter when we’re like this. When my thoughts don’t get loud, when my chest doesn’t ache with things I don’t understand.
Out here, under the stars, with Lior’s breath warm against my mouth, I forget the past. Just a little. Just long enough.
He pulls back slightly and brushes his thumb over my cheekbone. “You’re so beautiful, Tamsin,” he whispers, voice hoarse.
I smile, soft and shy. “You say that like I don’t believe it.”
“Because you don’t,” he says, and then kiss
