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The taste and feel of him, the scent of him, the good and the bad.
Kael Jenkins, gutsy, feisty, funny, sexy rock star.
Mine.
I kiss him back, and my heart beats in a rhythm, a tempo that’s set for only him.
We make out like we're alone and not surrounded by strangers, or being perved on by a group of drunken bikers. I kiss Kael with everything I have inside me, my hands wrapped around his neck, my body pressed against his body, until my lips have lost all feeling, and my brain spins in dizzy circles.
“I love you,” he whispers against my mouth. Leaning back slightly, he looks deep into my eyes. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you, Sienna,” he says, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip, smiling when I bite it lightly. “Come on tour with me. I want you with me. You and Bailey. I know it took me a while to realize it, but you’re all I want. You’re all I’ll ever want.”
I clasp my hand over my mouth. “You want us to come with you?”
“Yes. My answer will always be yes.”
“About time, Jenkins.”
He smiles, and then he kisses me some more, taking my face in his hands. Fitting his mouth to mine, all humor swiftly disappears, replaced by a desperate passion that can’t be contained, and I kiss him back, and I don’t stop kissing him.
Not now. Not ever.
The End.
