Kidnapped

His kiss ignited a wildfire inside me.

It wasn't rushed, or desperate—it was patient, deliberate, like he was tasting the very essence of me, learning me by touch and breath. The warmth of his lips pressed against mine, soft at first, then deepening, hungry. It felt like time bent around us, the air thickening, charged, like the walls of the room themselves were leaning in to listen.

I gasped softly as his tongue slipped past mine, and that sound—small as it was—made him pull me closer. My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my fingertips.