Wish I could explain the sudden need I have to make known that she’s here for me, even if they don’t know it’s pretend. My hand slides up the column of her neck, my thumb pressing beneath her chin while my fingers curl into her soft flesh. It’s demented, this urge, but I’m in too deep now to stop it. When I lean down and press my lips to hers, the entire background of the pub seems to melt away. My tongue prods the seam of her mouth, and it opens on the softest sigh, beckoning me to explore. And right then, I know. I’m fucked.
