And then his mouth crashes onto mine.
The kiss is overwhelming.
Wild and possessive.
Completely out of control.
My body reacts before my mind even catches up, heat rushes through me so fast it almost makes me dizzy.
My thighs tighten around his waist while I cling to him, every hungry sweep of his tongue over mine only makes it worse.
He holds me so easily, one arm enough to keep me up while the other slides to the back of my neck and keeps me exactly where he wants me.
Like he has any right to kiss me like this.
Like I have any right to kiss him back.
Like I’m allowed to want this.
Like I’m his.
Like he’s mine.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, alarm bells start screaming at me.
But they aren’t loud enough.
I’m too consumed by the thought of what my life could have been if I hadn’t been trapped by a damned signature.
I could have had this.
Freedom.
But this isn’t my reality, and I know I should stop this. I should pull away.
Yet I don’t.
I can’t.
If this leaves this building, it could get me killed.
But right now?
I don’t think I care.
His tongue glides past my lips and he deepens the kiss until it consumes me completely, leaving no space for anything else while he kisses me like a man starved.
Eventually, we break apart.
And only then do I register how unusually quiet it is.
Reality crashes back in instantly.
My breath catches hard in my throat, and within seconds the panic takes over. I can’t breathe properly. It feels like I’m suffocating.
I press my forehead into his shoulder, my hand tighten at the back of his neck while I try—and fail—to calm my breathing.
What have I done?
