She leans in, her voice low.
“If I kiss you once, I won’t stop. So think before you ask.”
“Kiss me, Mason.”
I do.
Slow. Deep. Hungry.
She melts against me like her body knew mine before her mind caught up.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“I want you,” she whispers.
My jaw flexes.
“Not tonight,” I say, rough. “Not when you’re still figuring out which way is up.”
“You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“I do tonight.”
Her brows lift. “You want me?”
“More than I should.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
I step back. Just a little.
“Keep pushing me like that,” I growl, voice low and rough, “and I’ll show you exactly how dangerous it is to want me.”
Her gaze doesn’t waver. “I’m not breakable.”
That’s it. The last thread of restraint snaps.
I haul her into me and crush my mouth to hers. This kiss isn’t slow. It’s not gentle. It’s a claim. Her hands fist in my cut like she needs something solid to hold onto, like I’m the only steady thing in her world.
She tastes like heat and hunger and something that’s already mine.
I lift her without breaking the kiss, walking her backward until her thighs catch the edge of the bed. She sinks down, dragging me with her, knees parting like she was made to open for me.
My hand slides under the hem of her hoodie, fingers brushing warm skin. I pause.
“Tell me to stop.”
Her breath shudders. “No.”
“Ava,” I warn, my voice more gravel than words.
She slides her hands under my T-shirt, palms splaying across my skin like she’s claiming me right back.
“You said you’d show me,” she whispers. “So show me.”
My control fractures.
I drag her hoodie up, over her head. It lands somewhere behind us. Next I unhook her bra.
