Lara.
Shit.
He kissed me.
One minute I was rambling—emotions spilling out like a broken dam, wearing them on my sleeve like a damn fool—and the next?
His mouth was on mine.
His tongue brushed against mine, bold and sure, exploring, retreating, returning again like he had all the time in the world. His arm coiled around my waist, drawing me into him so tightly I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. My body tilted, almost like gravity was dragging me into him, deeper and deeper, and I didn't even fight it.
My hands found their way into his hair—God, it was soft—and I gripped it like it was the only thing anchoring me to this world. I knew I should let go. I needed to.
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
If my father saw this, he’d have a stroke.
Thank the moon he wasn’t here.
And even
