Page 31 of The Spark

“I just... I didn’t want us to mess up our friendship.”

He nodded slowly, like he already knew.

“I feel the same way. That’s why I never let it get too far—even if I wanted to go all the fucking way with you. But… My dad always said girls are a responsibility. Not to rush commitment. Have fun first. But you?”

His eyes locked on mine.

“You were never just fun.”

I swallowed hard.

“You’re the one a man commits to. And I wasn’t ready.”

“And now?” I whispered. “You’re ready to commit?”

His jaw clenched, something in his expression unspooling.

“Didn’t think I was. Not until I spent all this time with you. Smelling you. Hearing you. Knowing you’re touching yourself, thinking about me.”

My breath caught.

He leaned forward, voice lower now. “And knowing I’vealreadytasted you…”

My thighs pressed together instinctively, warmth blooming low in my belly.

“Now…” he continued, dragging his gaze down my body. “Now I can’t deny it.”

Before I could respond, his hands were on me, pulling me between his legs. His touch was sure, familiar—like he remembered exactly how I felt under his fingers. He reached up, slid my glasses off gently, setting them aside without taking his eyes off me. Then his hands found my waist, tracing the line of my spine, pulling me closer like he needed to feel all of me.

And I melted. Because my body remembered too.

His kiss was deep. Slow. Possessive. Not like a first kiss.

Like acontinuation.

He kissed me like he had unfinished business with my mouth. Like he never got enough the first time. Like my taste haunted him.

His hands slid up my sides, brushing beneath my top, fingers curling under the weight of my breasts.

“Damn, Amaya,” he groaned, pulling the top up and over my head. “I’ve been thinking about these since the first time I had my mouth on them.”

I gasped as his lips closed around one nipple, then the other. Tongue hot, lips greedy. I arched into him, my hands threading through his hair, guiding him the way I remembered.

His mouth moved like he already knew what made me moan.

What made my back arch. What made my thighs clench.

And God… he did.

His hand pushed my skirt up, and when he reached between my thighs, he groaned.

“No panties,” he growled against my chest. “You knew what the fuck you were doing.”

I could barely breathe. He slipped a finger through my wetness, groaning again at how soaked I was.

His lips returned to my breasts, his mouth hungry and relentless as he kissed, sucked, and bit with just enough pressure to make me tremble.

“Amir,” I whispered, dragging my nails down his back, needing more.

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