The kiss is inevitable.
It’s right there.
Right there.
He dips his head, lips brushing mine just once—barely a touch, barely a breath—but the shock of it is a wildfire under my skin. My hands grip his shoulders. His exhale breaks.
“Tell me no,” he whispers. “And I’ll stop. Tell me now.”
No is impossible.
My lips part, not for a word, but for him.
He swears under his breath—low, reverent, wrecked—and then?—
He kisses me.
It’s not gentle.
It’s not controlled.
It’s a decade of grief and longing and missed chances erupting at once. His mouth claims mine with a hunger that punches the air out of my lungs. My hands clutch harder at his jacket. His arm bands around my waist, pulling me closer.
I gasp, and he deepens it, kissing me like he’s waited ten years and isn’t wasting another second. Heat flares through me,dizzying and fierce. My fingers slide into his hair and he groans—an actual sound, raw from his chest—as if he’s surprised by how badly he needs this.
Needs me.
He backs me into the locker wall without breaking the kiss, but gently—so gently it makes my heart lurch. His palms settle on either side of my face, holding me like a precious thing he’s terrified to lose again.
His lips slow.
Soften.
Linger.
Then he pulls back just enough for his mouth to brush mine as he breathes, “Savannah…”
I open my eyes.
He’s staring at me with something that looks like dawn breaking through smoke.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
The question shatters me.
I nod and then shake my head at the same time. “I don’t know.”
Axel’s thumb strokes my cheek, tender, grounding. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”
I exhale, shaky, trying to steady myself. “That kiss?—”
“Yeah,” he says quietly, voice still rough from it. “I know.”
“It felt like?—”
“Coming home.” He finishes it for me.
God.
