Sixteen.

ISHTAR.

His tongue burned my mouth, the kind of fire that ignited everything good within me, and I found that I was helpless against his touch. I kissed him hungrily, my hands in his hair and his on my lower back, and he pressed me tighter to him, his urgent lips working wonders on mine.

I was kissing him, open-mouthed, with my eyes fluttered shut. My hands burrowed into his hair while he reached up to answer by pulling me closer to him, my back hitting the cold wall while he pushed harder against me. His hands were everywhere on my dress, grabbing me roughly.

The shock of his mouth against mine wasn't cold or intimidating. The contact sparked up a passionate connection that traveled into my knees and weakened it. I weaved my hands behind his head to draw him closer, my breathing labored and ragged with a forcefully demanding heat engulfing my insides.

I couldn't believe I was touching him. Kissing him hastily enough to communicate something that words weren't enough to. All our hidd