Rosamund
His mouth found mine and the last thread of restraint between us snapped.
This was nothing like the first time. The first time had been a collision, two people crashing together from opposite ends of an argument, desperate and angry and half-blind with something neither of us could control.
This was different. This was a choice. His hands in my hair, pulling me closer. My fingers gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him down to me. Both of us knowing exactly what we were doing and choosing it anyway.
He kissed me deeply, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a slow, thorough confidence that made my toes curl against the sheets. I was still in his lap, my thighs straddling his waist, and I could feel him beneath me, hard and straining, the heat of him pressing against me through the thin cotton of my nightgown.
