Klein’s lips brush over mine—finally!—and he hovers there. “What am I going to do with you, Ace?” Everything. His hands, his mouth, I want him all over me. “Kiss me, Klein,” I manage to say, in a voice too breathy, too wanton to be me. And yet, that’s me. Wanting Klein. Practically mewling, rubbing myself against him. There’s a groaning sound low in his throat, almost feral, and then he lowers his mouth to mine.
