Just then, the show begins, and the crowd hushes as music plays through the speakers placed throughout the park.
“It can wait,” I say.
“Uh, no, it can’t,” he says. “Just ask me.”
I move my hands to the hem of his shirt, and I twist it through my hands as I say, “It’s going to sound really stupid, but I don’t know. I guess I just want to make sure this is real.”
“What is it?” Breaker asks.
When I glance up at him, the first firework shoots up to the sky, lighting up the dark night. “I want to make sure that we’re, you know . . . actually dating. That we’re exclusive, that . . . I don’t know, that I’m your girlfriend or something.”
The smile that crosses his face is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. “You asking me to be your boyfriend, Lia?”
“I mean, if you want to put a label on it. I just don’t want this to be a flash-in-the-pan kind of thing. You know? Like . . . just sex and fun. I don’t want that.”
His face grows serious, and he slips his hand behind my neck as he says, “You would never be a fling to me, Lia. Ever. What we have, it’s serious, and I won’t treat it any other way.”
“Okay,” I say as I glance away, gaining the courage to say what I want to say next. When my eyes fall back on his, I say, “Then if that’s the case, kiss me.”
His hand grows tight at the nape of my neck, pulling me toward him. I have never seen such a determined yet adoring look on his face before. I feel so...loved.
My breath catches in my chest. I wet my lips right before he brings me in the last few inches, and his mouth lands on mine.
I can feel my eyes roll in the back of my head as his soft lips capture mine.
Soft.
Demanding.
Absolute perfection.
It’s the most intense, satisfying, and thrilling moment of my life—kissing Breaker, kissing my best friend, feeling the electricity bounce between us as our mouths collide. With fireworks exploding above us, his lips mold around mine, his other hand tilting my face ever so slightly, controlling the moment.
And I let him, because I can’t do anything else other than fall into this man’s grasp as his open mouth works over mine.
Pressing.
Taking.
Tense.
When his mouth parts, I part mine. When he turns to the right, I turn to the left. When his grip grows tighter, so does mine.
And when his tongue presses against mine, I moan and swipe my tongue against his.
He’s so delicious.
I tangle my tongue with his, my hand growing tight around his shirt, needing him closer, needing more, and when I slip my hand under his shirt, he pulls away, stunning me.
I blink a few times just as huge fireworks burst above us.
Catching his breath, he stares at me for a few moments and then says, “I, uh . . . I don’t want to give the kids a different show.”
And I’m brought back to reality.
We’re still in Disneyland.
Surrounded by children.
