I lean up and kiss his cheek, lingering longer than I should. “You missed,” he says, when I draw back. “What?” “My lips. They’re right here—” I push him away from me. “In your dreams!” In mine, too. “Frequently,” he says. He’s still smiling, but there’s a ghost of a sigh. He cannot lie.
If someone talked to me like that I’d fold instantly, idk how FMC’s have the restraint.
