I cut him off by pressing my lips against his. I don’t realize what I’m doing until I’m doing it, but then I don’t really know how I can stop. How I could ever stop. One hand rests on the small of my back, and the other moves to my cheek, steadying me as his lips explore mine. His calloused thumb brushes against my cheekbone, and I feel like I’m on fire. He’s too slow. Too gentle. Too respectful.
