Before I can second guess myself, I surge forward, capturing his lips with mine.

Chapter Eight

Kristen

Zakir responds instantly, his mouth slanting over mine with a ferocity that steals my breath.

His callused hands gently cup my face, their warmth seeping into my chilled skin. The roughness of his fingers, tangles in my loose hair as he deepens the kiss.

This isn't what I expected. This isn't why I climbed his mountain but here we are, and I hold onto him as if he's the source of all life.

My life.

The worn fabric of his flannel shirt is all that keeps me anchored to reality, as his expert kissing leaves me breathless and disoriented.

It's electric, the way his lips move against mine. Hungry and demanding, yet achingly tender. Like he's been waiting for this moment, craving it as much as I have.

A small, distant part of my brain demands I slow the pace, that I'm behaving recklessly because I barely know this man. But the rest of me, the part that's come alive under his touch, refuses to listen.

When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Zakir rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed as he struggles to compose himself.

"This shouldn't have happened," he murmurs, his voice rough with an emotion I can't quite place.

Regret? Desire? Both?

I swallow hard, trying to calm the racing of my heart. He's right, of course. We're practically strangers, thrown together by circumstance. This is the very definition of foolish.

But god help me, I don't care.

For the first time in years, I feel alive. Like I've stumbled upon something raw and real in a world that's become increasingly manufactured, a pale shadow of what it could be.

I pull back slightly, searching his face. "Do you wish it hadn't?"

For a long moment, he simply looks at me, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he shakes his head.

"No," he says quietly. "I don't."

Relief floods through me, chased by a thrill of anticipation. I know we're standing on the edge of something profound here, something that could change everything.

But as Zakir pulls me back into his arms, his lips finding mine once more, I find I'm ready to leap into the unknown.

The kiss deepens, and Zakir's hands roam my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. I gasp as he lifts me effortlessly, setting me on the edge of the table. My heart races, pounding in my chest like a wild drum.

His fingers deftly push up my shirt, exposing my flesh to the cool air. Goosebumps rise on my skin, and I shiver, both from the chill and the anticipation. He leans in, his breath hot against my neck as he trails kisses along my collarbone.

I moan, unable to contain the sound. It's been so long since I've felt this alive, this desired. My hands fumble with thebuttons of his shirt, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against mine.

As the fabric falls away, I run my fingers over the hard planes of his chest, marveling at the strength hidden beneath. Zakir groans, the sound low and primal, sending a thrill through me.

He captures my mouth again, his tongue teasing mine as his hands explore my body. Every touch sends sparks dancing across my nerve endings, and I arch into him, wanting more.

My thoughts swirl, a chaotic mix of desire and disbelief. How did I end up here, with this man, in the midst of this storm? And yet, as his fingers trace the curve of my hip, I know I wouldn't have it any other way.

Zakir's lips find mine once more, and I lose myself in the kiss. His hands continue their exploration, each touch sending me spiraling higher. I cling to him, my nails digging into his shoulders as I try to anchor myself in the midst of this whirlwind.

He breaks away, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Kristen," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Are you sure?"

I nod, my own breathing uneven. "Yes. I want this. I want you."