“I’ve waited eleven years to kiss you.” Inch by inch, he lowered his head, pinning me in place with those sea green eyes. “Eleven years of thinking what it would be like to cross that line, imagining all the ways—” He shook his head. “Did you even want it? Or was it just to prove her wrong?” “You thought about kissing me for eleven years?” My chest tightened. “Yes. Did. You. Want. It?” he repeated.
