“Willow,” his voice rasped out. “Don’t look at me like that.” “Like what?” Mine was hardly a whisper against the wind, but I hadn’t needed to say it at all. My tongue ran over my lips, moistening them as we stared at each other. If we moved just a fraction of an inch, we’d be kissing. All I had to do was lean up, and— “Like you want me to kiss you.”
