It was a collision of heat against restraint, desperation disguised as precision and delivered with devastating control.
Her lips met his like a secret detonating, slow and deliberate, consuming from the inside out. There was no clumsiness in it, no accidental brush. She pressed into him with intention, her arm curving around his neck, fingers sliding into the hair at his nape as though she had always known the exact place to anchor herself. The cast at her other wrist hovered carefully between them, pale and rigid against the dark line of his suit, a reminder of fracture and survival that only sharpened the intensity of what she was choosing now.
For a heartbeat he stood perfectly still, hands suspended at her waist, caught between disbelief and desire. The rooftop noise thinned into a distant hum. The city lights beyond the glass railing seemed to dim, as if the skyline itself were pausing to witness the moment.
Then instinct broke the leash.
