Getting Lucky
EMBER
Kaden Marx is kissing me. My inner thirteen-year-old swooned and, typically for me, tripped over a trash can and went crashing to the floor.
Of course, twenty-three-year-old me, the one actually being accosted by those full lips, was just as close to swooning. My legs barely held me up, and my knees threatened to buckle.
Because oh. My. God. Kaden fucking Marx was actually kissing me, and I was pretty sure he was sober and doing it of his own free will. Imagine that?