If it wasn’t for that blizzard, if her car hadn’t broken down outside my house, if she hadn’t looked amazing by the firelight, I never would have kissed her. No matter how hard I try, every excuse I make not to see her comes up flat.
My hands are under his shirt, feeling the smooth plane of his back, absorbing his warmth through my skin. We’re both gasping and panting, pushing and pulling. And then he stops. I nearly fall off the couch when I no longer have the resistance of his body to push against. I pull back and look up at him, confused.
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