Holland
The bond climbed another notch. It asked me a question I’d been hearing in the background for days. I answered it with motion. I swung a knee across his lap and straddled him, slow, so he could stop me if he wanted to. He didn’t. His hands found my waist like magnets find north and then slid to the small of my back, anchor and invitation both.
I kissed him.
He kissed me back like he’d learned my mouth while I slept. It was slow and then not, careful and then honest. His arms banded—gentle but unarguable—and the line of our bodies matched in that way that makes a woman want to throw furniture out the window because how dare gravity and destiny conspire that neatly. I could hardly breathe and didn’t want to. Heat picked up everywhere, tugging at me, smoothing me, lightning living
