“If I ever lay my hands on you,” I whispered his same words to me from all those months ago, “you’ll want it.” He let out a quiet laugh as his lips grazed mine. I cocked my head, playing with him. “Do you?” I prompted. “Want it, I mean?” He cupped my face with both hands and begged, “Yes.” And then he snatched up my lips. “Hell yes.” And I melted. I always melted.
