He kissed her, a soft hesitant flutter asking permission. “I hate you,” she whispered. Her hand caught his neck, her fingers twisting into the curls there, and she almost believed she had the strength to pull away. “I hated you.” But then she tipped forward, just enough, and his mouth met hers hard, desperate and hungry. She kissed him back, her body remembering his, anticipating, moving into his arms as they came up to pull her closer. A thousand complications sprang to her mind. She pushed them back down. All that mattered was Az, there and in her arms and kissing her.
