"Of course."
The night air hit us like a wall when we stepped outside, crisp and cold enough that Cinder's breath immediately fogged. He shivered, hunching his shoulders against the chill, and I had to physically restrain myself from pulling him against my side.
"I had fun tonight," he said as we walked. "More fun than I expected."
"You sound surprised."
"I am, a little." He glanced at me sideways. "I'm not usually... good at this. The social thing. I spend so much time bracing for the other shoe to drop that I forget to enjoy the parts before it does."
"And tonight?"
"Tonight I almost forgot there was a shoe at all." He stopped beside his car—the same rust-bucket disaster from this morning, somehow looking even more precarious under the streetlights. "That's because of you, I think."
My breath caught. "Cinder—"
"I know we said we'd take it slow." He turned to face me fully, his back against the driver's door. "And I meant that. I do. But I also wanted you to know that... this matters to me. Whatever this is. It matters."
The words settled into my chest like something precious and fragile. I stepped closer, close enough that I could see the way his pulse jumped at his throat, the way his eyes darkened as he watched me approach.
"It matters to me too," I said quietly. "More than I know how to say."
He reached up, his fingers brushing my jaw so lightly I might have imagined it. "You're cold."
"I know."
"Doesn't it hurt?"
"Not right now." And it was true—standing here with him, his warmth so close I could almost taste it, the cold felt distant. Manageable. Like my dragon had finally found something worth settling for.
His hand curved more fully against my cheek, and I leaned into the touch despite myself, my eyes falling half closed at the simple pleasure of contact.
"Taz." His voice was barely a whisper. "Can I—"
"Yes."
I didn't even know what he was asking. It didn't matter. The answer was yes. Would always be yes.
He rose up on his toes and pressed his lips to mine.
The kiss was soft. Careful. The kind of first kiss that asked permission with every brush of contact. His mouth was warm against my cold lips, and I felt something light pouring through gaps that had been sealed for decades.
My hands found his waist, steadying us both as I kissed him back with all the gentleness I could muster. He tasted like whiskey and something sweeter underneath, and my dragon practically sang with the rightness of it.
When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing harder than the moment warranted.
"That was—" he started.
"Yeah," I agreed. "It was."
He laughed, the sound shaky but real. "I should go home. Get some sleep."
"You should."
Neither of us moved.
"Do you want to come to mine?" The words tumbled out before he could stop them. "For coffee. Or just—" I watched him fumble, cheeks flushing darker, and something warm unfurled in my chest. "I mean, you don't have to. It's late, and we said slow, and—"
"Yes."