My lips move hungrily against his, like I've been starving and only just realized it. One hand stays on his cheek, thumb brushing skin without thinking. The other fists into the fabric at his back, gripping like if I let go, I'll fall straight through the floor and into my own stupidity.
Jiang makes a small sound against my lips—surprised, breathless—and then he lets me lead.
He doesn't rush me. Doesn't steal control. He just follows.
One of his hands braces behind him on the floor, palm flat, keeping us steady. The other tightens on my waist, firm now, real, pulling me closer inch by inch like he's afraid I'll disappear if there's even a millimeter of space left.
I can feel his chest rise under my palm. Fast. Matching mine.
My brain is completely gone at this point.
No thoughts.
No fake relationship.
No "he'll leave Earth one day."
Just warmth, heartbeat, and the very inconvenient realization that I might have kissed him first—and enjoyed it way too much.
