I spring off the couch and brush away my tears with the back of my hand. When did I start crying? “I thought something happened to you! I thought you were dead! And you had to ‘take care’ of something?”
“Yes.”
“I was so damn scared! You don’t get to do that!” I poke my finger at his chest. “Never. You hear me?”
He bends and slides his arm around my waist, lifting me against him. “I’m sorry.”
“Jesus, demon.” I wrap my arms and legs around him and slam my mouth to his.
Life. His lips on mine feel like life itself. Every stroke of his tongue. Every nibble. I revel in every single thing he’s giving me. A whole year, and this is only the second kiss we’ve shared. The second kiss he’s allowed me. Not anymore. I bite his lower lip and squeeze my legs tighter around his waist, grinding my cor
