That’s the line, right?
Is he giving me a fantasy?
Is this the part Elle warned me about,
where he says all the right things
to make it feel like more?
I want to believe him.
Fuck, I want to believe him so bad.
I grab his hand and bring it to my cheek. “You think you’re the only one losin’ your shit?”
He looks at me,
an exhale scattering out of him on the way.
Then he sinks into me, forehead to forehead,
fingers hook under my jaw,
thumb brushing my cheek,
then lower,
sliding it across my lip,
easing it open.
He doesn’t crash into me,
he collapses.
Head angled, mouth open, kissing me deeper,
tongue, breath, all of it,
with his whole fucking chest,
pulling me into him.
I don’t want air,
but I need it to keep kissing him,
so I pull back.
“I don’t wanna stop,” I confess,
my gaze dragging down his body,
the words falling out of me—airless.
We’re whispering,
even though I forgot we’re in a bookstore.
