“So...” he begins. “So…” “You like what you see?” he teases, reaching out to grab a strand of my hair. “Eh,” I respond, playfully rolling my eyes. He steps closer and yanks me into a kiss. I savor the feel of my palms on his face, and he squeezes me against him as if we might become one. I don’t know what I was expecting after seeing his face. Maybe a lessened attraction? A horrid realization that I don’t like him now that I’ve seen his face? What I feel is nothing different. In fact, I feel the exact same as I did when he kissed me every single time prior to this. Just as explosive, just as
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