“David—”
My name sounds different coming from her.
Rougher.
Lower.
Like she feels it where I do.
I don’t let her get far.
My mouth finds hers again, slower this time, deeper, dragging it out until her breath catches all over again.
I don’t say what this means.
I don’t make promises.
I don’t explain anything.
I show her.
With the way I touch her.
The way I hold her.
The way I don’t give her distance even when I should.
Because right now?
I don’t want distance.
I want her.
And she’s right here.
Chapter Twenty
Hilary
Alarms are sounding in my head.
Or maybe they’re not alarms.
Maybe it’s music.
A dark, pulsing beat—low and wicked—the kind that crawls under your skin and refuses to let go.
His kind of music.
Because when David kisses me, it doesn’t feel like a moment.
It feels like a drop.
Like everything in me builds—tightens—waits—and then crashes.
Our mouths collide, not soft, not hesitant.
Hungry.