He tastes like danger; a little reckless, a little unholy, like sin dressed up as salvation.I stop pretending I don’t want him, even knowing I might not ever recover from a man like him.
My legs find the edge of the couch, barely a brush, but it anchors me as everything inside me catches fire.His thumb strokes the side of my neck without thought, tender against the wildness of his mouth, like he can’t decide whether to worship or ruin me, so he does both.
I open to him without meaning to, a soft sound escaping me.Embarrassment, longing, surrender, I don’t know anymore.His answering exhale ghosts across my cheek, shaky and a little broken, like maybe he didn’t expect this to feel like being handed back half of himself.
His forehead presses to mine for half a heartbeat, breath mingling, both of us trembling like the air between us could shatter.
“I tried to forget you,” he murmurs.“But there isn’t a world I want to be in if I can’t have you.”His fingers tilt my chin.“Even if it destroys me.”
And then he dives back in.Deeper, slower this time, like now that he has me, he’s determined to savor every second of the fall.
I should pull back.I should breathe.I should think.
But thought is impossible when his mouth is on mine, his hand in my hair, his body heat rolling off him like sin and salvation combined.And in this moment, in this dim, quiet room with only the sound of our breathing and our hearts losing their rhythm, the only truth I know is that I don’t want him to stop.
Not now.Maybenot ever.
He pulls back only a breath, lips still brushing mine, like he’s not quite ready to let go of the air between us.His forehead rests against mine, his breathing uneven, chest rising and falling like he just ran a marathon instead of kissing me senseless.
His fingers stay tangled in my hair, holding me there, not trapping,butanchoring.Like if he lets go, he might lose me all over again.
His voice comes low, rough, scraped raw.The sound of someone who’s been holding too much in for too long.“Tell me you don’t feel that?”
Not a command.Not a demand.A quiet, desperate plea.And God help me, I do.I feel it everywhere; in my pulse, in the tremble in my knees, in the way my heart is trying to claw its way out of my chest and into his hand.
My palm settles over his heart like my body decided before my brain could argue.His breath catches, not big or dramatic, just a sharp inhale like I’ve reached inside his ribs without meaning to.
“I don’t have the memories, Luc,” I whisper, voice thin but honest.“But something in me knows you.And that scares the hell out of me.”
His hand at the back of my neck tightens just slightly, thumb brushing my pulse like he can soothe panic, and claim me in the same touch.His forehead dips to mine, lips ghosting mine without pressing in, like he’s savoring the proximity, like pulling away would be impossible now.
A low sound leaves him.It’s not a laugh, not a breath.Something deeper.Something wrecked.Something sure.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice rough and so achingly gentle it breaks and mends me in the same second.“I know it does.”His thumb drags along my jaw, slow, deliberate, reverent.“But, let me remind you how well I know you.”
Not a question.Not permission.A promise.A beginning.
His lips brush mine again, softer this time, like he’s testing the edge of what we just shattered open.The kiss deepens before I even register moving, heat rushing through me so fast I swear I feel it down to my toes.He tastes like midnight, and want, and something dangerously close to home.
I don’t mean to make a sound, but a quiet, helpless whimper escapes me, and everything inside him seems to snap.His hand slides from my neck to my waist, fingers splaying against bare skin where my shirt has ridden up.The touch scorches.It steals my breath, my thoughts, every shred of sense I might’ve had left.
He tugs me just enough that his body is crowding mine, warmth and muscle and barely restrained hunger.My knees go weak.My fingers curl into his hair, holding on because if I let go, I think gravity would just take me down and leave me in pieces at his feet.
His chest rises and falls hard against mine, each breath rough and uneven.And when his mouth leaves mine for a second, dragging slow across my cheek to my jaw, I feel the world tilt.
God, I want him.And I don’t even know why.I justdo.In my bones.In my blood.He nips lightly at my bottom lip before kissing me again, deeper, slower, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of my soul through our mouths.
My body arches toward him without permission, need sparking hot under my skin straight to my core, and that’s when panic hits.Not because he’s too close.But because it feelstoo right.Too familiar for someone I don’t remember.
I break the kiss, breath tearing out of me, palms flat against his chest like I’m bracing for impact.His heart pounds under my hand, strong and heavy, and it only makes the ache worse.
“I-” My voice stumbles, barely there as I shake my head, my hair swishing around my face.“I don’t think… I’m not ready.”
His eyes close like he’s holding back something sharp; a groan, a curse, maybe both.When he opens them again, they’re softer.Wrecked and steady at the same time.He lifts one hand, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth where his kiss still burns.
“It’s okay.”His voice is smoke and gravel, low and unbearably gentle.Then, quiet enough to sting, “I’m not rushing this.Not again.You may not remember us, but I do, and I’ll wait for you to want me with your heart, not just your body.”
He leans his forehead to mine for a beat, one last touch, one last breath shared as he makes me a final promise.“Because, trust me Lily, when we get there, you’ll know.You’ll feel every damn second of it.”
