Then his hands moved. Hovered at my waist. Not touching yet. Trembling slightly, like he was fighting every instinct screaming at him.
I felt the war happening inside him. Shock bleeding into hunger bleeding into guilt. All of it crashing through him in the span of a heartbeat.
And then?—
He kissed me back.
Hard.
His hands found my waist and pulled me against him in one swift motion. No gentleness. No hesitation. Just desperate, controlled violence channeled into the way his mouth crashed over mine.
I gasped, and he took advantage—deepened the kiss until I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything except hold on.
My back hit the wall. I didn't remember moving. Didn't care. His body pressed against mine—solid, overwhelming, real in a way that made everything else dissolve.
One hand slid up my spine, tangled in my hair. Not pulling, just holding. Anchoring me to him while his mouth worked against mine like he was trying to memorize the shape of me.
Heat flooded through me—sharp and bright and terrifying.
I'd never been kissed like this. Like I mattered. Like he couldn't stop himself even if he tried.
His other hand gripped my hip, thumb pressing against bare skin where my sweatshirt had ridden up. The contact burned. Made me whimper into his mouth.
He groaned—low, rough, broken—and the sound shattered something inside me.
I kissed him harder. Pulled him closer even though there was no space left between us. My fingers twisted in his hoodie, nails scraping fabric, trying to find purchase on something solid while my world spun out of control.
This was a mistake.
I knew it was a mistake.
But I couldn't make myself stop.
My shoulders hit the counter edge. Sharp. Sudden. I gasped into his mouth and he swallowed the sound, one hand bracing against the laminate behind me to keep us both upright.
My fingers trembled against his chest. I could feel his heartbeat hammering under my palms—wild, erratic, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
His hands finally settled on my hips. Really settled. Fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. Desperate. Like he needed something to anchor him before he drowned.
The pressure sent heat racing through me. Made me arch into him without thinking.
He broke the kiss. Pulled back just enough that cold air rushed between us. His forehead pressed against mine, breath coming in ragged bursts that ghosted across my lips.
"This is a mistake." The words scraped out of him. Raw. Broken.
I shook my head. Couldn't find my voice.
"I shouldn't—" His grip tightened on my hips. Contradicting every word. "You don't know what you're doing."
My hands fisted in his hoodie. Held on even though he was trying to retreat.
"Olivia." My name sounded like a prayer and a curse all at once. "I'm too old for you. I'm your?—"
"Don't let go."
The whisper escaped before I could stop it. Soft against his mouth. Terrified and certain all at once.
His entire body went rigid.
