Ivy

For a second, we both just breathed. I could feel him, every line of muscle and pulse, the heat that came off him like a warning. There was hunger in it.

He held my face like it was something precious. Careful, but not gentle. His hands were rough, scarred in places I could only imagine, but he touched me as if he didn’t trust himself to want this much. As if I could break apart under him.

Maybe I would.

I didn’t care.

My breath came raw. I could taste ...