When she finally pulled back, her breathing was ragged, her fingers still gripping my shirt like it was the only thing keeping her steady.
“You’re going to ruin me,” she said softly.
I pressed my forehead to hers, still catching my breath. “Pretty sure that’s mutual.”
For a long moment, we just stood there.The city hummed outside the window—horns, sirens, the steady heartbeat of her world. And for once, I didn’t feel out of place in it.
I cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheek.
“You know,” I murmured, “you’re something else when you let your guard down.”
She smiled against my hand, eyes softening. “You’re dangerous when you know it.”
“Good thing I’m not leaving yet,” I said, voice low.
“Is that right?”
“Yeah,” I said, kissing her again, slow this time, almost reverent. “You still owe me dessert.”
She laughed against my mouth, and that sound—half joy, half surrender—was the best damn thing I’d ever heard.
And somewhere between the flicker of the lights and the warmth of her skin, I realized something terrifying and wonderful in equal measure. I wasn’t just falling for her anymore.
I’d already fallen.
Her mouth met mine again, and this time there was no hesitation, no polite testing of boundaries.
Just heat. Just her.
The kiss deepened until the rest of the world blurred out. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I could feel hers too—quick, fluttering against my palms where I held her face. She tilted her head, fingers curling into the back of my neck, and I swear that one small touch rewired my entire nervous system.
I pulled her closer, and she came willingly, the sound of her soft gasp caught between us. Her lips parted, warm and sweet, and the taste of her burned straight into my memory.
The edge of the counter pressed into my hip, but I didn’t care. Her hands slid under the hem of my shirt, fingertips tracing the lines of my stomach in light, maddening paths. I groaned, breaking the kiss long enough to say her name, just to hear it in the air.
“Melanie.”
She looked up at me, eyes wide and shining, pupils blown. “What?”
“You’re—” I stopped, shaking my head with a breathless laugh. “You’re trouble.”
She smiled, slow and dangerous. “Takes one to know one.”
She kissed me again, and this one went straight to my knees. She tasted like laughter, like defiance, like every wrong decision that feels too right to resist. Her fingers found their way into my hair, tugging gently, and I lost every coherent thought I’d ever had.
The rhythm between us shifted—hungry, unhurried, then hungry again. I lifted her onto the counter without thinking, her legs wrapping around my hips like it was instinct.
She broke the kiss first, her breath mingling with mine, her forehead resting against mine. “You really drove all this way just to make dinner?”
“Dinner was the excuse,” I said, brushing my thumb across her jaw.
Her smile curved, sly and knowing. “Thought so.”
“Guilty,” I murmured.
Her eyes searched mine, soft but bright, like she was memorizing the way this felt—just in case she ever needed to pretend later. But there wasn’t room for pretending now. There was only her hands sliding down my chest, my fingers tracing the small of her back, the slow burn that had been waiting between us for far too long.
I kissed her again, and she sighed into it, melting against me. Her laughter ghosted across my lips, small and breathless and perfect.
