Taste Me Like It's Our Last Day On Earth
she murmurs, her voice carrying that soft, private warmth she only uses when we're alone.
I don't stop walking until I am standing right in front of her, caging her against the glass.
The heat radiating between us is insane, a thick, heavy fog that smothers every logical thought in my head.
My hand finds the glass right beside her cheek, my fingers curling into a fist against the cold surface to keep from wrapping around her waist.
"You did well today," I say, my voice deeper than usual, rough around the edges.
"I told you," she whispers, her eyes dropping to my mouth before locking back onto mine, burning with a quiet, triumphant heat.