Kiara stood at the threshold of the door, hand brushing the wood, her back turned to him, her tall frame silhouetted in the dim light.
"So make your choice. If you still want me, sit beside me when you come to the class. If not… if you can't accept what I am… then sit at your old bench."
Her voice softened, barely audible, as if forcing the words through a thick fog. "I won't blame you."
She turned the handle, the door creaking slightly.
But before the latch clicked, Lor moved.
He was behind her in two long strides, his hand grabbing hers, fingers warm and firm against her skin, pulling her back.
She turned, surprised, her icy blue eyes widening—but he pulled her in, gently, firmly, his lean frame pressing close, his bare chest brushing her blouse.
And then he kissed her.
Soft at first, his lips warm and gentle, a tender press that made her breath catch, her full breasts rising against him.
