Page 57

Warmth

"Re–"

His breath was warm, scented with whiskey, against my forehead. My arms trembled to grab onto his suit. To push him away or pull him closer?

"Re, I–"

My heart ached with how close he was. I wanted him closer. I wanted him gone. I -- he confused me.

"Re–"

He tilted my head up to meet his eyes. I drowned in them. He searched for answers along the contours of my face; I didn't know how to feel.

"Re–"

The tips of his mouth twitched into a smile. "I love that nickname."

He kissed me.

I pulled away first. "Re, you're drunk."

He chuckled, leaning his forehead against my shoulder. His arms had pulled me flat against his torso, and they tightened the longer he laughed.

He pulled his head back to stare at my eyes. "Not enough."

He pecked my lips, again and again, until I laughed. "Stop!"

"You'll have to stop holding on so tightly then," his words incited something in me.

My arms wrapped around his shoulders, and into his hair. I kissed his jaw, and let my heart beat settle.

I felt safe, and warm. So, so warm.