Page 137 of A Million To Fall

Boston’s eyes close, like he’s trying to hold on to the last scraps of control.

For one suspended second, it feels like we’re both standing on the edge of something neither of us should touch. The air between us crackles, thick and hot.

Then something gives.

I don’t know who moves first.

Boston?

Me?

Both of us?

All I know is one second there’s space between us and the next his mouth is on mine.

The first kiss is almost unbearably soft.

Tentative.

Disbelieving.

Like neither of us trusts that this is actually happening.

My breath catches.

His hand glides to the back of my neck, fingers curling in my hair at the nape.

And then I kiss him back. Really kiss him.

A low sound tears from his throat—all desperation and need. It shoots straight through me. Heat blooms beneath my skin, spreading everywhere all at once.

His mouth parts against mine and every coherent thought abandons ship. There’s only him. Only Boston.

I rise onto my toes, desperate to get closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Like somehow I can crawl beneath his skin and stay there.

His free arm wraps around my waist, hauling me against him.

The contact steals the breath from my lungs, every hard line of him pressed against every soft curve of me.

The kiss deepens naturally after that. Our tongues exploring. Hungry. Urgent.

Months—years, maybe—of stolen glances and unfinished conversations and feelings neither of us should have finally breaking the surface.

My hands slide up his chest and around his shoulders, his body responding in ways that make my skin hum.

Boston kisses me like he’s starving.

Like he’s trying to memorize me.

Like he’s spent years wanting this and still can’t quite believe it’s real.

And maybe that’s why I can’t stop.