Kissing her was everything I'd dreamed it would be. And nothing like it at all. Because my imagination hadn't accounted for the way she melted into me like she'd been waiting just aslong, the feeling that something broken in both of us was finally clicking into place.
Her hands fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer. I wrapped my arms around her, felt the curve of her waist, the way she fit against me like she'd been designed for exactly this space. Her mouth opened under mine, and I stopped thinking about anything except the heat of her, the taste, the small sound she made when I deepened the kiss.
When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing hard, I rested my forehead against hers again.
"So," I managed. "Are we doing this?"
She laughed. The sound was watery and raw and perfect.
"We're doing this."
I kissed her again and again. Small kisses between breaths, between the words neither of us could say yet. Then deeper. Slower. My hands tangled in the curls she'd spent so long on tonight. Her back hit the wall, and she gasped against my mouth.
"Zoe," she breathed.
"Asleep," I said against her lips. "Heavy sleeper. You told me."
"I told you that?"
"You tell me everything." I kissed the corner of her mouth. Her jaw. The spot below her ear that made her shiver. "I listen."
Her head fell back against the wall, giving me access to her throat. I took it. Kissed my way down the column of her neck, felt her pulse hammering under my lips.
"Shane." My name came out unsteady. "We should?—"
"We should what?"
She pulled back just enough to look at me. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. Her lips were swollen from my mouth, and her hair was already half-destroyed, and she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
"We should move," she said. "Unless you want to do this against my living room wall."
I considered it. Briefly.
"Bedroom," I agreed.
She took my hand and led me down the hall, not letting go.
Before she could reach for the door handle, I spun her around and pressed her against it. I found her mouth. All the restraint I’d been holding onto for weeks finally snapped. She made a sound against my lips, and her hand slid into my hair, fingers gripping tight, pulling me closer. Her other hand fumbled behind her for the handle of the door.
The door swung open, and I walked her backward into the room, my hands on her hips, my mouth never leaving hers. I kicked the door shut behind us, grateful that Zoe was a deep sleeper.
I'd been in this room once before. I remembered the thin strap of her tank top slipping off her shoulder. The way her lips had parted, soft and inviting. How badly I'd wanted to follow her down onto those pillows, and how hard I'd had to fight myself to walk away.
Tonight, I wasn’t walking away from her.
Before we reached the bed, Maya pulled back, breathing hard, and pressed a hand to my chest.
"I haven't done this in a long time," she said quietly.
"Neither have I." At her raised eyebrow, I clarified, "Not like this. Not with someone who matters."
Something shifted in her expression. The last bit of hesitation fell away.
She reached up and started unbuttoning my shirt.
I reached around to find the zipper at the back of her dress. The zipper slid down slowly. I watched the fabric loosen, watched her shoulders rise with a quick breath. Then the dress was pooling at her feet, and she was standing there in nothingbut simple cotton underwear, looking at me like she was waiting for judgment.
I couldn't breathe.
