Then the space between them vanished. Woon’s mouth was pressed over hers, or her mouth was on his—she had no idea who’d moved first. All she knew was that a flimsy wall they’d been holding up from opposite sides had collapsed between them. She was on her toes, arms wrapped around his neck. Woon’s hands were buried in her hair, cupping the back of her head as their lips and tongues sought each other with a trembling, desperate abandon that lit every square inch of Shae’s body.
