Syria's POV:
"Rein, pull away," I kept whispering continuously in my head.
His lips were soft and warm, brushing mine like a question he already knew the answer to. I should have pushed him. I should have screamed.
But I could not. I instantly threw away all precautions—
And did the most unbelievable thing ever.
I deepened the kiss.
I am sorry, Syria. She warned me not to involve myself with any of them emotionally, but here I am.
Our mouths fit like they were made for each other—his breath hot, minty, teasing against my lips. Then, slowly, his tongue brushed against mine. A shock ran through me, like static meeting water. My knees almost buckled, but his hand snaked around my waist, steadying me, pulling me in.
His tongue tangled with mine—curious, hungry, addictive. It was not just an ordinary, innocent kiss. It was mixed with love and passion.
I matched him stroke for stroke, breath for breath, until I realised I could not breathe.
