Page 49 of We Shouldn’t Do This Again

She doesn’t. Neither of us moves, and that says everything.

“We’ve always been like this…” I murmur without taking my eyes off her lips. “Pure intensity. Constant collision. Fire that consumes everything.”

“And destruction,” she adds, her voice barely audible.

“And something we’ve never found with anyone else. Something that’s still there, beating beneath all this fear.”

Silence wraps around us, but this time it burns. Because we both know it’s true. Even if it hurts. Even if it complicates everything we’ve built separately. Even if it doesn’t fit into any of the orderly lives we try to live.

“This can’t work,” she says, almost to herself, as though she’s trying to convince herself.

“It worked once before,” I reply softly but firmly.

“And look how that ended.”

“Because we didn’t know how to do it right. Because we were afraid and let that fear destroy us.”

“Or because there simply was no right way to do it,” she insists.

I slowly shake my head, feeling the weight of every year that separates us and binds us together at the same time.

“I don’t want to believe that.”

“I do.”

“Then why are you still standing here so close to me? Why haven’t you walked away yet?”

The question tears through every defense she’s built so far. I can see it in the way her eyes widen slightly, in the way her breathing falters.

“Because…” she begins, but the words die in her throat.

She doesn’t need to finish the sentence. In that instant, everything either falls apart or falls back into place. I don’t know how else to explain it. I only know that I take that final step, erasing what little distance remains between us. That my hand cups her face. That her breath mingles with mine. And that when her lips finally brush against mine… everything else stops mattering.

It isn’t a gentle or restrained kiss. It’s violent. Necessary. A collision that sweeps away everything we were trying to hold together. Her hands grip my waist with the same desperate urgency with which I pull her closer, tangling my fingers in her damp hair.

For a few seconds that feel endless, only we exist. No filters. No walls. No fear.

But even in the middle of that deep, consuming kiss, something beats painfully in the center of my chest. A clear, brutal certainty. This isn’t the beginning of anything. It’s something far more complicated. Far more dangerous. And yet… neither of us stops. Neither of us wants to be the first to pull away. Because right now, the only thing that matters is that we’re here. Together. Again. Even though we both know tomorrow everything will become complicated again. Even though we know this fire could end up burning us both.

CHAPTER 25

THE LINE WE KEEP CROSSING

Barbara

The kiss isn’t a kiss. It’s an explosion.

My lips crash against hers with all the rage, hunger, and love I’ve been holding back since we got off the boat. Lidia moans against my mouth, a low, guttural sound that wraps around me and races through my whole body. Her hands dig into my waist and pull me so hard we almost lose our balance in the middle of the sandy path. The sun has already disappeared completely, but the sky is still burning with shades of orange and pink, and I can think of only one thing: her. Her hot mouth, her tongue tangling mercilessly with mine, that taste of salt and pure desire that drives me insane.

“Damn it, Lidia…” I whisper between kisses, never moving more than a breath away from her.

She responds by biting my lower lip hard and dragging me toward the nearest bungalow—hers. We stumble over the wooden steps, half-laughing, panting like two madwomen. Her fingers tremble as she searches for the key in the pocket of her dress, but I won’t let her. I pull her hand away, pin her against the door, and kiss her again. My knee slides between her legs, and she grinds against me desperately, searching for relief.

“Barbara… not right here in the middle…” she tries to say, but her voice breaks the second my hand slips up her thigh and squeezes her ass through the fabric.

“Since when have you cared about people seeing us?” I growl against her neck, biting her skin. “I still remember all those times we fucked while family or friends were on the other side of the wall.”

The door swings open, and we stumble inside. The bungalow is dimly lit, illuminated only by the soft glow of the wicker lamps hanging from the ceiling. The scent of her perfume swirls around us. I kick the door shut and pull her against me again. Her eyes are a deep green, and in them I see the same fire burning inside me.