He hovers there.
So close I can feel his breath against my lips.
And for a second—
I think he’s going to stop again.
That he’s going to leave me like this.
On edge.
Waiting.
But then he moves.
Finally.
His mouth finds mine.
Slow.
At first.
His lips press against mine, like he’s still holding back even now—like he’s testing how much he’s willing to give.
My fingers tighten in his shirt instantly.
And that’s all it takes.
The control slips. Not enough, but some.
His hand tightens at my waist, pulling me closer as his mouth deepens against mine, slower, heavier—his tongue brushing along my bottom lip first.
A quiet pause.
Like he’s giving me the choice.
My lips part.
And he takes it.
His tongue slides into my mouth, unhurried, controlled—but there’s nothing soft about it
