“I want to hold you,” I breathe. His forehead almost touches mine, our lips nearly skimming as he whispers, “You’re holding me.” His husky voice quakes, his hand clutching my jaw. “And my arms are tight around you, and your chest is against my chest.” Tears scald our eyes, and we breathe and breathe, and I whisper, “You know, my heart is in your hand.” His lips are agonizingly close. “I hope not. Because then you’d be dead.” He kisses me before I react. Just one tender kiss, leaving me longing for more.
