I have to lean back into it, gasping, one hand fisting in his shirt, the other slipping up into his hair. And -- fuck, fuck, fuck, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Answering him with a soft, hesitant groan, it's like running on autopilot. I know how to kiss, so I do it.

My eyes are still damp and my heart's hammering, but I don't have to think. I don't have to think, and for a few moments, it feels really fucking great.