Page 165 of Dream On, Liar

I laughed softly. “That's one way of putting it.”

“I still wanted you.”

The words lingered between us.

I looked at his mouth.

He looked at mine.

And before I could rethink it, I leaned forward and closed the gap between us.

Our mouths met, and just like it had done before, the ache in my chest evaporated, and everything in me went quiet. Like whatever wound that had been screaming, finally found an aid that could heal it.

His hand moved as they pulled me onto his lap, as his other hand cupped my face so gently, it was almost startling from the times before.

The kiss deepened naturally, like we’d been circling it for so long that neither of us needed instructions anymore. His hand moved to the back of my neck, holding me gently as I curled my fingers into his shirt.

Heat rushed through me as every nerve seemed to wake at once.

The room disappeared.

The rain disappeared.

Everything except the warmth of his mouth, the roughness of his thumb against my jaw, the way his breath caught when I leaned closer.

It wasn’t like the kiss in Auckland.

That one had been fireworks.

This was the entire sky opening.

It was warmer.

Deeper.

Less frightened.

When I finally pulled back, my forehead rested against his.

We were both breathing harder.

His thumb traced my cheek.

I smiled, and he mirrored me.

And for the first time in what felt like my entire life, I didn’t wonder whether I was wanted.

I knew.

I wasn’t sure what had possessed me. Maybe it was the way he’d looked at me—like I wasn’t something temporary, like I wasn’t something he was trying to figure out how to file away neatly in his life. Maybe it was the fact that, for once, neither of us was pretending. Or maybe I was simply tired of spending my entire existence deciding what I was allowed to want.

So I stopped deciding.

I leaned in and kissed him again.

No hesitation.

No regret, like I had the times before.