I watch her walk inside, knowing with absolute certainty that nothing has ever affected me the way she just did.
And walking away tonight?
It might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Proven by the hard dick straining in my pants.
Chapter Twenty-One
Melissa
Iwake up already warm.
Not from the room or the blankets, but from the memory.
The kiss comes back to me in pieces at first. His hands on my face. The way he looked at my mouth like he was starving for it. The slow, deliberate way he kissed me.
My stomach is in knots.
I roll onto my side and pull the covers up, staring at the sunlight creeping across the wall. My lips still feel tender, like my body hasn’t caught up to the fact that he’s not here.
What gets me isn’t that he kissed me. It’s how badly I wanted him not to stop.
I hadn’t expected that. The ache, the pull, the way my body leaned into his touch like it recognized him before my mind did. When his hand slid to my knee, then higher, then back down again, I almost protested. Almost begged for him to touch me where I desperately needed it.
Enough so that when I got home, I went straight to bed and touched myself until a mediocre release came.
I close my eyes, letting myself relive it for a second longer. The restraint was intoxicating … and infuriating.
I wanted more in a way that scared me because it didn’t feel tangled in grief or guilt.
It felt alive.
A weight settles suddenly on my mattress.
“Good morning,” Kayla announces far too loudly.
I yelp, clutching the covers. “Jeez, Kayla!”
She grins down at me, already bouncing. “You kissed him.”
“I—” I stop. “How do you know that?”
“You’re glowing,” she says. “And your lips look … well used.”
I groan, burying my face in the pillow. “Can we not analyze my face before coffee?”
She ignores that completely. “Details. Immediately.”
I sit up reluctantly, hair a mess, heart still racing. “It was only a kiss.”
Kayla’s eyebrow shoots up. “That sentence is a lie.”
I sigh. “Okay. It wasn’t simply a kiss.”
“Thank you,” she says, settling cross-legged at the foot of the bed. “Continue.”
I hesitate, then take a breath. “He was … careful. Intentional. Like he was holding back what he really wanted.”
Kayla’s smile softens. “And how did that make you feel?”
