His hand held my cheek, pulling me closer, his other hand snaking around my waist.
My hand flew up, fingers grasping his shirt like a lifeline. My other hand was behind me, steadying myself so I wouldn't fall back.
The kiss wasn't slow or gentle.
It was fast and demanding.
It was as if he's venting his emotions through his lips.
And I loved it.
YOU ARE READING
Chocolate Ice Cream
Short StoryTara Flynn believes that the only way to heal a broken heart is by locking herself in her room, and eating tons of chocolate ice cream. Nathaniel Adam disagrees.
