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I could get him some water since the tap is right there. If he’s too posh for the tap, the big metal fridge that is impressively girthy—yes, I’m still talking about the fridge here—with the double doors is just off to the left.

I could do that. I could get him some water. Yes, I could, but I don’t.

Instead, I find myself stepping forward, stepping closer, and closing the gap between us. Kirian doesn’t move, whereas I’m still moving. I’m the one who sets my hands on his broad shoulders. Those are my palms soaking up the male heat emanating from his male body of dreams. Is that a song? About bodies being amazing? Yeah, I know, that’s probably not how it goes. My brain is short-circuiting at the moment. But anyway, Kirian’s body is all that and more, and it’s crazy because Kirian isn’t just anyone. He’s a stranger, kind of, but he’s also someone I happen to be cursed with. Like, together. We’re cursed together. That’s us. What did his granny say? Soulmates for a minute or soulmates for life, it’s all the same? I can’t say that’s right either, and I can’t say I agree, but it doesn’t stop me.

I reach up and thread my fingers through the softest hair in the world. Kirian’s hair is way softer than mine. He must use some killer shampoo. His hands come up too, one on my side and the other on the back of my head. I started this, but Kirian finishes it. He slams his mouth over mine, and oh!

Oh, my sex god of sugary cake fantasies. Vanilla. It’s vanilla cake. I always said I would only do vanilla, so this has to be okay, right?

The icing isn’t half bad. In fact, okay, it’s fucking delicious on Kirian’s lips.

I’m worried I’m not a good kisser because of the whole lack of experience thing, but I kiss him back. Hard. Harder than I’ve ever kissed anyone.

And he kisses me back. Whoa boy, does he ever. His mouth moves against mine, hot, scalding, and slightly aggressive, but in a good way. I thought all day about licking him—okay, I fantasized about licking him—and I don’t miss my chance. I sweep my tongue over his lovely lower lip, lapping up all the icing and cake crumbs. I do the same to his upper lip before I come back for more. This time, the seam of his lips opens, and my tongue accidentally thrusts inside. I swear it’s an accident, but oh my lord.

Now our tongues are gliding in time with our hands. Or rather, at least my hand, which is sweeping over Kirian’s broad chest, the smooth fabric of his dress shirt, and inside his expensive jacket. I can’t stop shivering, no, not shivering. Trembling. I can’t stop trembling with red hot lust. Because under his shirt is rock-hard muscle. I can’t believe I’m touching this man. This man with the perfect body—a body people only dream of. And oh my god, he’s still kissing me. His tongue is in my mouth, caressing mine. I can taste icing and cake and man.

My jeans are now soaked beyond belief. I remember how my sister and I used to call it the war of the panties, how we would never wear any. It used to be a joke, but then it became real. So, yeah. There’s a lot of wetness going on because Kirian is scraping my face with his sexy stubble. My nipples are now so hard that they can slice through my bra and T-shirt like a sharp-ass sword. My clit is throbbing. Throbbing. Yes, mine. It doesn’t usually do things like that. Umm, not with other people at least, and not really with myself either. I always thought maybe it wasn’t as sensitive as it should be, or there was a good chance it was dysfunctional.

But nope. It was just waiting for Kirian Cromwell to come, kiss the shit out of me, scrape his face all over my face, put his tongue in my mouth, and tongue my tongue.

Is that me grinding up against the rock-hard bulge in Kirian’s pants? Lord, it feels like someone robbed the deli meat section of the supermarket and tucked an entire log of salami down his pants. Holy mother of all wieners, that thing is big. And now I feel extra throbby and all achy and empty right where he could put his monster slab of deli meat.

“I see the soulmate thing is working out.”

“Arghhhh!” I shriek.

“Holy farging sparklefucks,” Kirian curses.

I’m not sure if sparklefucks are better than other fucks, like clear or something, or if they’re just covered in glitter, but they sound nice.

When we spring apart, I nearly knee him in the crotch, and he just about elbows me in the face as he swings around. We both brush our mouths, and I swear cake crumbs come off on the back of my hands. I take a massive step away and finally turn to look at the intruder. Of course, it’s Kirian’s granny. And she looks pleased as a freaking peachy punch.

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