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His hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, and the touch is gentle but certain, and I make a sound against his mouth that surprises both of us.

When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.

"Okay?" he asks.

"Yeah. More than okay."

I kiss him again, deeper this time. His other hand finds my waist, and I shift closer until I'm practically in his lap.

The position presses us together, and I can feel all of him, the solid muscle and heat of him, and it makes my head spin.

His thumb brushes bare skin where my sweatshirt has ridden up, and I gasp into his mouth. He does it again, deliberately this time, and I'm suddenly crawling into his lap properly, knees on either side of his hips, and we're kissing like we've been waiting years instead of hours to do this.

His hands span my waist, thumbs tracing patterns on my skin, and when I rock against him we both make sounds that probably should embarrass me but don't.

"Lyla," he says against my mouth, and there's a question in it.

"Bedroom," I manage to say.

We stumble there together, kissing the whole way, bumping into furniture. By the time we reach the bed, his henley is half off and my sweatshirt is somewhere on the floor and we're both breathing like we've been running.

In the dim light I catch the dark lines of a tattoo across his right bicep, but he pulls me down before I can ask about it.

He pulls me down onto the bed, and for a minute we just kiss. Long, deep kisses that make me forget about Trevor and fear and all the reasons this might be a mistake.

His hands are in my hair, on my back, learning the shape of me through my clothes.

Then he's pulling my tank top up, and I lift my arms so he can get it off, and suddenly I'm in just my leggings and bra and the reality of what we're about to do hits me all at once.

"Wait," I say.

He stops immediately, hands going still on my waist. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just..." I struggle to find words. "This is really fast. We just met today."

"Yeah, sorry."

"And I told myself this was only going to be kissing."

"That's okay. It can still be only kissing."

"But now I'm in my bra and I'm not sure what I want."

He sits back slightly, giving me space. "We can stop, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to."

"I don't know. Maybe? I don't want you to think I'm leading you on or changing my mind or being difficult."

"You're not being difficult. You're being honest about what you need." His voice is calm, no frustration or pressure. "We can stop whenever you want. We can just sleep. We can go back to the couch. Whatever you're comfortable with."

The lack of pressure does something to me.

Trevor would've pushed. Would've said we'd already gone this far, would've made me feel guilty for changing my mind.

But Kieran's just looking at me, waiting for me to decide what I want.

"Can we just sleep?" I ask. "Like, actually sleep?"

"Yeah. Of course."