“All night,” she whispered.
“What?”
She shook her head faintly. “Nothing.”
Her lips hovered close enough that I could feel the warmth of her breath. Wine and strawberries and that coconut lotion. My brain stopped functioning somewhere around the scent of her skin.
My hand slid to her waist without asking permission, thumb brushing the bare strip of skin where her dress shifted.
She inhaled sharply.
Didn’t pull away.
The world narrowed to inches.
To breath.
To the sound of leaves moving overhead.
I waited—some stupid, old-fashioned part of me needing her to close the distance first.
And then she did.
Not rushed.
Not clumsy.
She leaned in like she’d already decided.
Like this wasn’t a question.
Her mouth brushed mine once—soft, testing.
Lightning.
Actual lightning.
Every nerve lit up.
I kissed her back slow, careful, like I was afraid too much pressure would shatter the moment. Her fingers tightened in my shirt. She made this tiny sound in her throat—half sigh, half surrender—and that was it.
I was done for.
The kiss deepened without either of us meaning for it to. Her lips warm and sure. Mine chasing hers. My hand sliding from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her closer until there wasn’t space left to breathe.
She tasted like summer.
Like the first day you realize you’re happy.
Like something I didn’t want to ever end.
Fireflies blinked around us like we were inside a snow globe.
Candles flickered.
Somewhere, far away, the city kept moving.
But here?—
