Then I snap.
I lunge forward, one hand fisting the front of his shirt, the other tangling in the hair at the back of his head—and I crash my mouth against his.
The world explodes.
TRACK FIFTY•THREE
Take Me Home Tonight
Chance
I can't breathe.
I'm finally—fucking finally—tasting his kiss.
His lips are warm and soft and urgent, moving against mine like he’s been doing this in dreams for years. Maybe he has. I know I have. At the same time, I fucking hate that maybe hehasdone this before. With someone else.
I finally get my bearings, sliding one hand to the back of his head, gripping like I’ll lose him if I don’t hold tight. My tongue slides against his lower lip, begging for entry.
He opens for me.
The world stops.
And I melt with him.
We fall into a kiss so frenzied, so hungry, I can feel it erasing almost every minute we lost. Tongues moving in rhythm, tasting, learning. Dancing a dance we’ve been waiting to join, standing on the edge of the dance floor all these years.
He tastes better than I ever imagined. Like sex with sweet undertones. It makes my head swim.
Then he nips at my bottom lip, just enough to make me growl into his mouth.
He breaks the kiss, breathing hard, pressing his forehead to mine. We’re still holding on to the back of each other’s heads. It might be the only thing keeping us upright.
Then he whispers the words that flip my entire existence upside down.
“That, Chance Sullivan, was my first kiss. So no, no one else has ever had these lips.”
I pull back an inch, just enough to look at him.
He smiles softly, rain dripping off his eyelashes. “It was always supposed to be you. I've been saving itfor you. I love you too, you big idiot.”
I close my eyes and rest my forehead against his again. I let the weight of that truth sink in for a moment.
When I open them again, I can’t stop the blinding grin that spreads across my face. “Thank fuck.”
He lets out a laugh, and it’s the best sound I’ve heard in years.
“Um,” he says, voice low and delicious, “can we do that again?”
I lean in, ready to steal another taste, when my eyes flicker past his shoulder.
Jason.
He’s walking toward us with his coat pulled over his head, rain streaking off the fabric. I pull back a step, and Ant frowns in confusion until he turns and sees.
Jason stops a few feet away, looking between the two of us.
“I never stood a chance, did I?” he says, voice even.