The One
And then, without thinking, without any intention, my hand reaches out, finding her arm, and I pull her closer.
Our lips meet, harsh and unyielding, fueled by the frustration and tension that never seems to dissipate between us. There’s nothing soft about the kiss, nothing gentle. It’s a clash of wills, a battle of anger and desire that neither of us is willing to back down from. I feel her hands gripping my arms, her nails digging in as though she’s trying to ground herself, and I don’t let go, caught in the heat of the moment, in the reckless need to prove something I can’t even name.
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