Not hard. Not the way I expected from him — not fast or hungry or any of the things his energy had promised. He kissed me soft and slow and deliberate, like he was making a point, like he wanted me to feel every single millimeter of it. His lips moved against mine carefully, learning the shape of them, his thumb still at my jaw holding me right where he wanted me.My hands found his chest.I meant to push. I know that's what I meant. My palms landed against him and my fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt and I absolutely meant to push — but his mouth moved and every coherent thought I'd been holding onto went quiet. He kissed me like he had something to prove and all the time in the world to prove it, deep and slow and so thorough that my knees actually softened.I felt him smile against my mouth.He knew. Of course he knew.His hands moved to my waist — both of them, firm and warm through the thin fabric of my shirt, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.
Last Updated : 2026-06-04
