But that’s impossible. In a few days, we’ll both be in Maui and life will be back to normal. I have no right to hope for anything other than tonight.

This temporary time-out is all we get. And it needs to be enough.

Callum steps toward me, closing the space between us. “Tell me what you want.”

I tug at the bottom of his shirt. “I need to hear you say the words.”

My chest heaves with every breath I take. The simmer inside of me is now a million invisible flames. It’s more than an ache; it’s need. I’m practically panting at how much I want him.

“Tell me this is bad, but you don’t care. Tell me you know what a terrible idea it is for us to do this because of our history, because when we go back to Maui, we’ll have to forget this ever happened,” I say. “Tell me that you’re willing to do it anyway. Because . . .”

Gently, he takes my chin between his thumb and index finger. “Right now I don’t care about any of that. I just want you.”

He finally presses his mouth to mine. Somehow it’s better than I imagined it would be. He teases at first, the tip of his tongue lapping at mine like I’m some delicious ice cream cone he can’t stop licking. He’s taking it slow, savoring me.

Given the expert way he worked my neck with his lips earlier, it’s no surprise he’s a dynamite kisser. I wasn’t expecting this level of mind-blowing though.

My insides are bursting at the intensity of this simple yet addicting kiss. Holy Christ, why don’t all men kiss like this? Slow, steady, tantalizing rhythm. Efficiency is overrated. Taking your time is where it’s at.

Pressing my palms against his chest is the only way to steady myself against the dizzying effect of Callum’s nuclear kiss.

Seconds pass, maybe even a minute or two. Then there’s a pickup, a leveling up of intensity. Callum’s tongue is getting very, very filthy, and I love it.

His hands, which started at my waist, are now in my hair. I’m gripping his wrists for dear life, like holding on to them is the only way I can keep myself alive and upright.

We’re both panting, both letting out soft moans every time the tiniest bit of air slips between our mouths.

I’m the first one to pull away. I need a minute. For oxygen, for my brain to process all the arousing sensations his mouth sends to my body.

With his hands holding my cheeks, he smiles down at me. “How’s that?”

“That’s . . . that’s . . .” I’m seeing stars as I wobble on unsteady feet. Words are simply not enough, but they’re all I have. “Why did you wait this long to kiss me?”