Chapter 5

Once he is done blowing on me, becoming tired because of his labor, he leans down and meets his lips with mine. Here, locked against my body, he holds my face inside his large palms, dives his sliver of tongue into my mouth, tastes my saliva, eventually pulls off and away, and says, “I like you, Storm.”

“You’re bad love,” I whisper.

“And rough love.”

“But none of that matters because I’m falling for you.”

“You are. I feel the same way.”

* * * *