Locke silenced me with a swipe of his thumb over my lips. Then he kissed me. Like, really kissed me, as if devouring me whole was as important as shutting me up. As if his mouth on mine held the answers to every question I’d ever had. And maybe it did, but I’d never fucking know it, because his kiss wiped my brain clean of every naïve dream I’d had of this moment. I thought I knew what it would be like to kiss Locke—to kiss any dude, any person—who wasn’t Orla. But I’d had no fucking idea. No clue that the moment his lips consumed me I’d be a different person. He kissed me hard, his hands
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