His face is so close. Too close. It’s me that closes the distance between us. Me who presses my lips to his. This is pure, unadulterated impulse. So much for not pursuing him … He tastes just as I remember. Like smoke and steel. And unlike the rest of his body, War’s mouth is pliant. The kiss is supposed to be gentle, but the horseman hijacks it, crushing his lips against mine. He’s devouring me with the same intensity he has in battle. He rolls us over so that I’m on my back and he’s above me, pinning me to the ground. He keeps his weight off me, but even still, he feels as solid and heavy as
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