He wanted to kiss her.
He really did.
The moment Ajax made it to his room, he closed the door and pressed his back against it.
He tried to breathe through the frenzy of his tattered breaths. His head was in the clouds. His nerve endings exploded like multicolored fireworks in the sky. Drunk on her innocence and that f*****g sweet fragrance of her hair, her body, her breath—her entire goddamn existence—he tried to make sense of his scattered thoughts. Only to fail miserably.
It was useless to say how long he stood there at the door. Just existing, staring at the ceiling. As if someone, somewhere, had painted the answers to all the commotion in his head on the walls and the roof.
He wanted to kiss her.
No.
He wanted to do more than just kiss her. He wanted to savor her. Lick every noo
