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“I never imagined you would want this with someone like me." I frowned at that. I'd never taken Reggie as someone with low self-esteem. "What's wrong with kissing someone like you?" I asked. He pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose, and to the apple of each of my cheeks. I kept my eyes open so I could see the blue of his, count the light freckles that dusted the bridge of his nose. "It's just... unexpected. All of this. You." "Bad unexpected?" I asked. He shook his head. "No." He paused, then added, "It might add some... complications. But this is the very opposite of bad." What did he mean by complications? He kissed me again before I could ask, bolder now, his tongue darting out to trace along the seam of my lips. I opened for him on instinct and he groaned, placing one hand at either side of my waist and hoisting me onto the kitchen table as he thrust his tongue into my mouth. I thought back to the night we met, how I'd wondered whether Reggie kissed like the world was ending, and oh, it was exactly like that, the way he carded his fingers through my hair, tugging just shy of too hard, as he tilted his head and kissed me deeper, harder. It was like a dam had burst inside him, all the restraint I hadn't even realized he'd been using swept away with the tide, until I had to pull back, gasping for breath in his arms. "I want to taste you," he murmured, his lips finding my jaw, my clavicle, pressing hungry, open-mouthed kisses down the side of my neck. "God, I'm so fucking hard, just thinking about how sweet I know you'd be.” — Jenna Levine