It wasn't a kiss
It was a claim.
He cornered her in her favorite bookstore
tucked in shadows, their bodies close. His
hand gripped her jaw-not hard, just enough
to tilt her head up. His lips brushed hers but
never gave in.
"You think you can walk past me in that
dress," he murmured, voice a storm
restrained, "and 1 wouldn't lose my mind?"
hand gripped her Jaw--not hard, just enough
to tilt her head up. His lips brushed hers but
never gave in.
"You think you can walk past me in that
dress," he murmured, voice a storm
restrained, "and I wouldn't lose my mind?"
Her heart pounded. Her voice? Gone.
'You're mine, Fiona. You've always been
mine. You just didn't know it yet.
Then, finally--his lips crashed onto hers,
And nothing in the world existed except the
fire between them.