I turn to walk away and find myself spun back toward him before I’ve even had time to process it. His mouth lands on mine without hesitation or uncertainty, as if I’m a meal he’s been waiting for years to consume. And he consumes. With his lips, his tongue, his hands. He burns me alive, taking my oxygen and my common sense and leaving nothing but desire in its wake. Kissing is so much more than I realized. Not just mouths and fumbling, but something that turns my core into a pillar of fire and finds me arching against him, desperate for more.
