His lips stayed on hers. One breath passed, then another. Was he waiting for her sign? He already had it, her face gave everything away. Still, if he needed more, she would give it gladly. She answered him with her lips, moving them gently, asking him to deepen the kiss.

The softness didn’t last. He responded with hunger, with need, taking her mouth as if he had been holding back. 

Her breath faltered. 

The pressure of his kiss sent a shiver through her. He tipped her head aside and kissed her harder, slower and then firm, his lips pressing and dragging over hers. His tongue traced the edge of her closed mouth, and the smoke and his distinct taste filled the ache inside her. A soft sound slipped from her, her lips opening, and he didn’t hesitate. He moved in, his tongue meeting hers, their mouths joining fully.

Her heart beat wildly, her hands tightening in his hair as if she was afraid he might disappear if she let go.

She felt it in that moment. This was his answer. Not spoken. Given.