It only took a breath, a tiny space within the seconds, for Wesley to grab her with enough force to send them both hurtling back into a nearby tree trunk. Tavia took in a quick breath and then Wesley’s lips were on hers, hands knotted in her hair, pulling her closer to him so that every inch of their bodies was touching.

Suddenly Tavia couldn’t think about anything else. Not the war or Ashwood or the realms hanging on the line. Not the fact that she was going to die and this would be the first and last time she ever kissed Wesley.

Tavia couldn’t focus on anything past the burning inside of her. Kissing Wesley helped put the fire out and then ignite it all over.

She ripped off his suit jacket and slid her hands across his chest, under the thin layer of his shirt. He was skinnier than she remembered and it broke something inside of her to think about why. The months of torture he’d endured alone and in the dark.

Wesley broke away for a moment to push her hair from her eyes, revealing the high arc of her cheekbones. “Tavia, I—”

But she didn’t listen. Couldn’t listen.

She needed him. More than words. More than anything.

How had she gone her entire life without kissing him?

Tavia pulled Wesley’s head back to hers, sucking on his bottom lip, and Wesley pressed harder against her. Tavia traced the lines of his stomach and Wesley made a beautiful, wretched sound in the back of his throat that reverberated through her.

He moved his hands lower, sliding her up against the bark of the tree. Tavia hitched her legs around his waist so their bodies curved into each other.

She pulled away, breathless, panting as Wesley trailed kisses along her collarbone. Tavia cupped one arm around the back of his neck, pulling the small locks of hair and twisting them between her fingers.

His teeth skimmed Tavia’s neck and she knotted the collar of his shirt in her fist, before crashing her mouth back onto his.

She was hungry for him.

She felt like she had been hungry for years without ever admitting to it. But months apart, and then seeing him again, bruised and beaten but alive, had changed everything.

Tavia ran her teeth across Wesley’s lip. He tasted like oranges and bonfire smoke. Bitter and sweet as his tongue glided over hers.

Every inch of her was exploding.

“Wait,” Wesley said. “I have to tell you something first.”

He was shaking.

Tavia opened her eyes to his, glassy and near black, fluttering in a blink with every breath. He looked at her like he was trying to hold something back and it was so, so close to being let out.

Tavia touched her lips to his again, delicate, trying to swallow the yearning that seeped into her veins.