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“Peter kissed me the way a man on the cusp of drowning breathes. Gasping and desperate. His mouth tasted of the meal he'd drunk before finding me in the bar, of the breath mints he'd probably chewed to cover it up, yet I burned for this. For him.” — Jenna Levine
Peter kissed me the way a man on the cusp of drowning breathes. Gasping and desperate. His mouth tasted of the meal he'd drunk before finding me in the bar, of the breath mints he'd probably chewed to cover it up, yet I burned for this. For him.