And then she says “Sean” in this way like she’s said it to herself before. Like she’s murmured it into her pillow, like she’s doodled it in notebooks, like she’s imagined what it would be like to breathe my own name back into my lips. “Sean,” she says again and the heel of her palm hits my belt and it’s over, it’s done, my control is snapped like a cord. I groan. And yank her into a searing, burning kiss.
