"If you're going to kiss something, Thalia… might as well be my mouth."
"If you're going to kiss something, Thalia… might as well be my mouth."
She froze, lips barely brushing his skin. Her eyes flew to his, wide and breathless.
His free hand came up slowly, fingers grazing her cheek, then tilting her chin up with the lightest pressure.
Their faces were inches apart. The warmth of the moment shimmered between them, tension pulling tight like a bowstring.
"I—" she tried to speak.
"Shh," he whispered, his thumb tracing the corner of her mouth. "Let's just try this."
He leaned in and kissed her.
It was gentle at first, testing—his lips brushing over hers with a quiet hunger. Then she melted into it, arms slipping around his shoulders as her heart crashed wildly in her chest.
The kiss deepened, sweet and slow and full of promises neither of them had the courage to speak yet.
When they pulled apart, her forehead rested against his, breath mingling.
