HERA
It wasn’t forceful, nor rushed—there was no urgency in the way his lips moved against mine.
Instead, it was tender, slow, each brush of his mouth against mine filled with a kind of aching intimacy that caught me off guard.
His hand slid up, cradling the side of my face, his thumb gently tracing my cheek as though I were something fragile, something to be cherished.
For a moment, I froze, shocked, realising he wasn’t even fully awake.
In his mind, I wasn’t Hera—I was Rachel.
I should push him off. I need to push him off before this escalates.
But instead, I found myself sinking into the kiss, responding to him in ways that felt both wrong and deeply, deeply right.
My breath hitched in my throat as his hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss w
