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See, that’s what I want.
I want to see that radiant smile of hers.
Astra surprises me out of nowhere, clashing her lips onto mine.
The urgency of her kiss steals my breath away, and I give in to everything she is.
Her kiss is a mixture of coffee and saltiness from her tears.
It’s fierce, unyielding, and completely sucks me in.
This isn’t anything like the gentle kisses we’ve shared before, or even our hot and heavy rumble in the bathroom at the bar.
This is something much stronger.
It’s a silent plea laced with insatiable hunger.
Or maybe it’s a battle cry, an undeniable need to be touched by the man who will undoubtedly protect her.
She breaks our kiss for just a moment, gasping. “Upstairs,”
Astra yanks her lips away from mine, tugging my hand along with her.
She’s leading me away and I can’t help but stare at the way her jeans are glued to her like a second skin.
We stumble through the dimly lit hallway, our shadows flickering against the walls.
My heart pounds in my chest, yearning for her.
Each step we take is another toward the monumental connection we share.
We hurry up the wooden stairs and they creak with every step we take.
The protector in me is on high-alert, scanning every wall, window, and door as we breach the second level of her café.
No one is here and I make it a point to go to every window, verifying it’s locked and the curtains are pulled before I meet her.
She’s locking the door to her apartment when she turns to face me.
“I need you,” she pleas and I’m happy to oblige.
I cross the space of mismatched furniture and bold colors.
Her apartment feels like a cocoon of worldly travels and mixed artwork, just like her.
I’m not certain if she’s done much traveling, but I can tell the artistic touch is hers.
There’s a lingering scent of vanilla and chamomile in her apartment, calming and welcoming to anyone who visits.
Astra’s frail yet demanding voice fills my ears once more. “Stay.”
I back her up against her apartment door and snicker, “Oh, I’m not leavin’. Not by a long shot.”
I scoop her up into my arms and kiss her passionately, showing her how much I fucking care about her.
I carry her over to an ancient, relic of a couch.
It has to be at least ten or fifteen years old, and as I think about it, I’ll guarantee it’s some sort of antique.
