“Do you trust me?” he demanded, his lips an inch from mine. There was a storm forming around us now, trapping us within its eye, and as everything around us was in chaos, we held on to each other, our souls, finding each other after braving the storm alone for so long. We met in the center of it, broken, hopeless, and desperate. Desperate for a connection. Desperate for acceptance. Desperate for love. “My soul does, Mase.” “Fuck,” he groaned as his lips slammed down on mine.
