He leaned in and kissed me.
My hand flies to his chest before I decide to put it there. My fingers bunch in his sweater, ready to push. His heartbeat kicks against my palm, fast and hard, and that is what stops me. Not the kiss. His heartbeat. The fact that he is not as steady as he looks, that something in this room tonight has found a c***k in him too, and I can feel it through the fabric.
He kisses me the way he does everything. With certainty. With patience. His mouth moves against mine like he has all the time in the world and is choosing to spend it here, and I understand in the same breath that this is strategy, this is calculated, this is exactly what he planned the moment he heard the footsteps, and I understand none of that matters at all.
I taste coffee. Warmth. Something und
