Instead of answering, I leaned forward, closing the distance between us. Our lips met, and it was like coming home and jumping off a cliff at the same time. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but then his hands tangled in my hair and I pressed closer, and suddenly there was nothing tentative about it.

He tasted like coffee and mint, like safety and danger all wrapped up together. When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard.

"We should probably—" he started.

"Stop talking," I ...