The door clicked shut behind her with more force than she intended. Shea leaned back against it, palms flat against the cool wood, chest rising and falling too fast. The faint taste of him lingered on her lips, so delicate and fleeting it almost felt imagined. But her pulse, still racing, assured her it had been real.
She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, as though she could hold the memory there, keep it from slipping through her fingers like something too fragile to last.
God.
Her apartment was dark, the only light spilling faintly through the window blinds. The air felt cooler than the warmth she carried in from outside, a warmth still clinging to her skin like an invisible glow. She didn't move at first, frozen in the doorway, because if she did, she was afraid the moment would vanish, as if it had never happened at all.
He kissed me.
