What started as comfort soon turned into something more. His lips found mine again, softer this time, as if he were searching for solace rather than escape. My resolve melted under the weight of his need, and I found myself responding, my fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened.
We moved together, the tension between us igniting into a fire that consumed everything else. Somewhere in the haze of desire, I knew this was dangerous—that letting him back in like this would only complicate things further. But in that moment, none of it seemed to matter.
When we finally broke apart, breathless and tangled in each other, he rested his forehead against mine. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“For what?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“For letting me forget,” he said softly.
The words hit me
