His hand comes up.
Cups my face.
Thumb brushing my jaw.
"This is a mistake," he says.
"I know."
"We're going to regret this."
"I don't care."
"You should—"
I kiss him.
Cut off whatever responsible thing he was about to say.
And he kisses me back.
Not gentle. Not careful. Not the controlled kisses from before.
This is need. Raw. Unfiltered. All the weeks of restraint completely shattered.
His hands slide into my hair. Mine grip his shirt. We're pressed together. No space. No distance. No pretense.
Just this.
Just us.
Finally.
He pulls back. Breathing hard.
"We should stop—"
"No."
"Avery—"
"No more stopping. No more careful. No more pretending we can fight this."
"If we do this—if we cross this line—there's no going back."
"Good. I don't want to go back."
His forehead rests against mine. "You're going to destroy me."
"Then let me destroy you."
He kisses me again. Deeper this time. More desperate.
