‘I want—’ My throat tightened, and then I couldn’t talk anymore.

‘Cait.’ His voice broke. Broke me. Broke down every wall I’d ever built. Every single excuse I’d made. And then there was no space between us at all.

I kissed him. Softly at first, my lips barely grazing his, giving him a chance to pull away, to stop me, and then, when he didn’t, harder, hungrier, my hands coming around to the back of his head, his around my waist. He moved into me, pulled me against him. I couldn’t breathe and I didn’t want to, just wanted to kiss him, deeper and faster and harder. My toes were curling in my shoes and my fingers were grabbing at him, at his hair, his neck, inside the collar of his hoodie, finding his skin, his pulse. Alive.

I crashed into him, terrified it was a dream and the alarm was about to scream, that at any moment he was going to come to his senses and stop it all. That I was going to die, and I didn’t know when, soon, any minute, and I wasn’t ready at all. This had to happen first, this one thing.

His hand moved and he gripped my hip, pulling me closer, impossibly closer. I felt my teeth scrape his and I thought I should care but I didn’t.

‘Cait …’ He tipped his head back, pulled away. His eyes were huge, pupils black all the way to the edges. ‘Are you sure?’

I was. I was so sure it burned. I nodded, heard a whimper break out of my throat, a strangled yes. He hesitated, then kissed me again, harder this time. I moaned and felt him react, one hand pulling up my t-shirt, the other in my hair. I couldn’t remember ever being so sure of anything, wanting anything, needing anything as much as I needed to be feeling his skin, his hands, his mouth, just once, just this time.

His fingers tightened as his mouth slid off mine, along my chin and onto my neck. ‘Come upstairs?’ he breathed into my throat.

‘Yes,’ I managed, kissing his ear and his jaw and tugging at his hoodie. ‘Please.’