Rooka was finally kissing her. The woman who calls the other half of his soul. The one he thought had died thirty years ago was finally in his arms.
Without breaking eye contact, he slowly brushed his lips against hers, once, twice, making sure that she was not going to hit him. The third time, he swiped his tongue on her close lips, making her gasp. Without hesitation, he started to deepen it. There was minimal resistance, maybe because, in a way, she was attracted to him, either way, she started to melt against him, and he warped his arm around her waist to keep her from falling.
She was an explosion of flavor that he was not expecting. Maybe it was the food they had, or maybe he was just overthinking, but she was addicting, something he cannot live without. A soft moan escaped h
