He stared at me, a half-embarrassed, half-angry little frown on his face. I waited for him to lash out with an insult about my clumsiness or stupidity, about it being my fault he fell in the first place. But instead, he kissed me. He pressed his lips onto mine, shoved his tongue into my mouth and ravaged it. Then my hands were in his hair and holding his head in place because the thought of him stopping was the worst thing I could imagine. I would die if he stopped now; I was certain of it.
