Page 225 of Legacy
Before I can swallow, his hand cups my jaw, tilting my face up, and he leans in, kissing me slow, tasting the chocolate from my mouth like he’s savoring it, savoringme.
A soft whimper escapes me, caught between the taste of sugar and the taste of him, the warmth of his mouth, the gentle but unyielding hold of his hand on my face.
When he pulls back, just a breath away, his thumb swipes across my bottom lip, smudging a trace of chocolate, and he smiles, soft and devastating.
The kiss ends too quickly, but he doesn’t move far.
Just brings the remainder of the strawberry to my lips.
Before it touches my mouth, I press my fingers gently to his wrist.
He stills.
“What is this?” I ask, breath catching.
His eyes meetmine.
Those light gray eyes—always hiding something, always swirling with the threat of thunder behind the calm.
He tilts his head slightly, like the answer’s obvious.
“A gift,” he says softly. “One you’re apparently giving me.”
I swallow, unsure what to say to that.
He sets the strawberry down. His hand lifts, fingers brushing my cheek.
I lean into it.
Because his touch feels like everything I’ve been missing.
He tilts my chin, just enough to bring our mouths together again.
And this kiss…
This one breaks me.
It’s not rough. Not fast.
It’s slow.
Consuming.
His lips move over mine like he’s relearning the shape of me, like he’s pouring every unspoken word into the seam of my lips.
And I feel it—allof it.
The restraint. The ache. The desperation he won’t say aloud.
He kisses me like I’m sanctified and doomed all at once. Like this is the last moment before everything falls apart and he’s trying to memorize the taste of me.
My fingers curl around the edge of the counter, knuckles white.
I don’t know how to hold him, so I hold onto this.
To the kiss.
To the heat and softness and pain threaded between us.
