But whatever she’s about to say next gets lost in the brush of my mouth against hers. This wasn’t part of the plan. It’s a mistake and we both know it, but when her hand moves to my chest, her fingers closing in the fabric, all I can think is this is right. I kiss her again, groaning as I sink into the softness of her mouth, tasting the quake of her breath and the give of her lips opening beneath mine. The tentative stroke of her tongue against mine. Shy and bold. Perfect.
