With that declaration, he grips the side of my neck and slams his mouth onto mine. Startling, the only sensation is warmth. Warmth from his mouth on mine. Warmth from the overwhelming presence of his body and the desperation in which he’s kissing me. Because it is desperate. It’s needy and it’s wanting. It feels like there are six years of wanting wrapped into this kiss. He gives me a moment to catch on to what’s happening, for me to part my lips and ask for more. And when I do, when I give in to him, it becomes all-consuming, every one of my senses ramping up to ten.
