Page 24 of Worshiping Faith

“It’s got to work both ways. There has to be more. It’s not some trade-off. I’m not sleeping with you so you’ll protect me. I want to know you. For us to know each other. More.”

More.

Is she serious?

More?

Yep. Totally fucked.

“I just need to know you mean it. You want this. That’s all I need to know.” I step closer.

And son of a bitch, she does too.

Her breath deepens, her pupils blow wide, lips parting just slightly.

All the signs. She wants this. Wants me.

I lean in slow, giving her a chance to come to her senses, to pull away, to stop me before I do something I can’t take back.

She doesn’t. She’s waiting.

“Faith,” I murmur, so close my lips graze hers.

Her breath shivers. “Zachs,” she whispers my name, and fuck, that sound…

That sound.

Like a plea. Like I’m the only thing she wants in the whole goddamn world.

I’m done.

I drag my tongue between the part of her lips, tasting before I even kiss her, and she gasps, soft and breathless.

That sound, delicate, vulnerable, sinks into my bones, knocking something loose so deep inside me I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back.

She fists my shirt, pulling me in, and when her lips finally press to mine, I melt.

I fucking melt.

This isn’t hunger. This isn’t rough. This is slow, deep, a kiss meant to be savored.

Her mouth is warm, sweet, her lips softer than I ever thought they’d be, and I’m starving for the feel of them.

I kiss her back carefully, drinking in every little movement she makes, feeding off her reactions.

She lets out a quiet whimper, and it wrecks me.

My hands skim her waist, barely gripping her, like she’s something fragile, something I could break if I’m not careful.

She leans into me, pressing closer.

I slide my hand up her back, feeling the warmth of her through her shirt, memorizing the shape of her spine beneath my palm.

Another soft sound from her, needy, aching, and I’m lost.

I tilt my head, deepening the kiss just enough to taste more of her, to feel the way she opens for me without hesitation.

She kisses me like she means it. Like she’s choosing this. Choosing me.

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