Ava's lips parted to respond, but his kiss silenced her. This time it was slow, deliberate, and filled with unspoken words. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer as he savored the feel of her against him.
Their kisses grew deeper, an uncontrollable fire sparking between them, melting away every hesitation. Dylan forgot the dull ache in his back, the frailty of his legs—none of it mattered now. His world narrowed to Ava, focusing only on the way she molded against him, her fingers threading through his hair.
She eased him toward the bed, her hands steady as they worked to remove his shirt. Her gaze traced his form—his sharp jawline, the broad expanse of his chest, the taut muscles of his abdomen. But as her eyes drifted lower to his legs, worry clouded her expression. The intensity in her faltered.
"We shouldn't…"