"Hey," he said, his voice dropping into a rough, low whisper. It was a little too soft, sounding exactly like a man who knew what he was about to do wasn't innocent anymore. "Can I kiss you?"
She didn't say a single word. She just looked at him—and that look, man. It wasn't scared. It wasn't entirely sure. It wasn't angry. It was just… incredibly complicated.
Her plush lips parted slightly, maybe preparing to speak, maybe not. Her breath was caught halfway in her chest, and she didn't even seem to realize it.
But she didn't pull away.
So, he leaned in.
And God, when his warm lips finally brushed against hers, it felt like a heavy, rusted lock had just clicked open. Like something buried, deep, warm, and agonizingly slow had finally melted down between them.
She didn't resist him. She didn't tense up. She just… fluttered her eyes closed.
And he kissed her.
Mouth pressing firmly on mouth, their lips naturally molding together like they were always meant to rest right there.
