She couldn’t think of anything but the way Thomas had kissed her. Like he meant it. Like he needed it. Like she’d wanted him to, that day he’d come home and found her waiting in his room. Vivienne had been kissed before, but never like that. She doubted anyone would ever kiss her that way again. Not if she lived to be a thousand. She felt as though she’d been flung clean outside of herself—forced to watch the evening unfold from somewhere apart from her body. Only this time, she wasn’t trapped on the other side of the glass.
