“Fine, then.” His breath warms the shell of my ear. Tickles my cheek. “Please.” I can feel my heart pounding. “What?” “Please, Sadie. I’m begging.” A triumphant grin splits over my face. “All right. I suppose, in that case—” He doesn’t even give me a chance to finish my sentence. His mouth is on mine in an instant, desperate, urgent. And I cave in. I hate surrendering, but maybe it’s different when you’re both surrendering to the same thing, because this doesn’t feel awful. The opposite, actually.
