Stop it, I tell myself. Step back, let go, stop!
But I don’t. Who am I kidding? I can’t. I won’t.
When he finally breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against mine and stares at me, his eyes unbelievably intense mere inches from my own. “God, I missed this,” he murmurs, his words mere breath on my cheek. “I missed you.”
Now I find the strength to push against his chest, though without any real conviction. “I need…” I start, but my voice dissolves and I have to clear my throat before I can speak again. “Let me lock up here. I’ll be right back.”
He keeps a hand on my hip as I step back, then hooks a finger through a belt loop at my waist. When I turn away, he tugs once, enough to pull the fabric of my pants taut against my crotch, where a dull ache has begun to bloom. Just when I think he isn’t going to let me go, his finger uncurls, releasing me.
“Hurry back,” he says.
I stumble over my feet as I hurry to comply. 13