~Anne's POV~
I held him tighter, my lips crashing against his in a hungry and desperate kiss.
His mouth was hot, demanding, tasting faintly of the mint he'd chewed earlier. His good hand tangled in my hair, tilting my head back so he could deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my knees weak.
I pressed closer, my body molding to his, feeling the hard lines of his chest through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips, and his bandaged hand came up carefully, cupping my waist like he was afraid I'd break. But I didn't want to be careful. Not tonight. I needed to feel alive, to feel him.
"Anne," he murmured against my mouth, voice rough and his breath ragged. "We don't have to—"
"I want to," I whispered, cutting him off with another kiss, my hands sliding under his shirt to trace the warm, taut skin of his back.
