Something shifts in the air between us.
“Little Bird, you can’t look at me like that.”
“Why not?” I whisper.
“Because I’m not sure I won’t die if I can’t touch you.”
“Who says I won’t let you touch me?”
“Will you let me touch you, Victoria?”
My body shivers at his words. “Yes.”
His lip tips up into a sexy smirk. “Good to know . . . ”
I lean in, closing the space between us slowly, telling him with my body that I’m serious. I want this. I want him.
He leans in, too.
“You sure?”
“Yes.” And before he can ask again, I brush my lips against his, it’s soft at first—tentative. But then he presses closer. Sealing his mouth to mine.
I open to him, and he takes the moment to slip his tongue into my mouth.
Lifting my hands, I grab onto his shirt.
He kisses me like I’m everything, and when I’m in his arms I feel like I am.
He cups my face in his hands, deepening the kiss.
I swear the world around us fades away.
There is no party.
No parents.
No Grant.
It’s just us.
With each passing second, the kiss grows hungrier.
More frantic.
Until we are all tongue and teeth.
I tug his shirt up, pulling away from his mouth for a brief second.
“Your turn,” Lorenzo practically growls.
His hands find the back of my dress and pull the string.
“You can’t do it like that.”
“Show me.”
I stand, and then once I’m standing, he follows suit, turning me around and loosening the strings.
