She lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling. The memory wouldn't just stop. It had been replaying inside her head over and over again like bad news, or a premonition or an omen. The way his lips felt against her, the sparks and the tingles, the heat, the pull, the rush of emotions that came with it and that crushing need to just wrap her hands around him and let him do whatever he wanted to do to her. Her heart ached because she knew exactly what was happening to her.
It wasn't something she could deny anymore. She had tried over and over again to tell herself that it was just a mistake or that it was something else, but she'd come to the sore, sad realisation that she was falling for him and each time that thought struck her, her heart lurched in her ribcage.
She had promised he
