"Dang, Kat! Get! That!" a squeaky voice whooped from down the hall.

If Tristan's lips, tongue, and even his saliva weren't practically miraculous, I may have given a shit at being caught by my neighbor. I didn't even bother to step away from him, instead I just turned my head to look at Christy, my thirty-something neighbor who claimed to have slept with half of the professional athletes in the city. "I would have if you wouldn't have killed the moment," I laughed, feeling the fingers on my hips loosen their grip.

Christy laughed loudly before unlocking the door to her apartment with a wink. "You get some of that for the both of us, girl!" Fortunately, her dark mop of hair disappeared into the apartment a second later.

I looked up at Tristan, who was still standing so closely our chests were pressed together. His cheeks were pulled back into a lazy smirk, but it was his eyes that showed blazing, pure intensity beneath the green. "That wasn't exactly the way I envisioned things happening," he said in a husky voice that managed to affect my uterus.

I blushed and tried to will my brain to think of what to do next since standing in the hallway making out didn't seem like the best idea. "Come inside," I told him, pulling away from his hands to reach for my purse and bag of food.

He grabbed my bags before I did and nodded, smiling and silent. The door was unlocked faster than ever — even the times when I was at the brink of peeing my pants — and we were in my home and on the couch a moment later, sitting next to each other. I was nervous and my lips felt a little chafed from brushing against the scruff of his facial hair. Tristan shifted a few inches over so his muscular thigh pressed against the side of mine, his eyes focused on my face. Rummaging through the bag, I handed him one of the two chalupas waiting to be devoured while I opened mine up. "So, Mag, about that out there..."

A breath of air was sucked in harshly. "Please tell me you don't regret it," he whispered at the end of the inhale.

Was he freaking serious? It would have been easy to play it cool and try to make it seem like our game of tonsil hockey a second ago was perfectly normal but it wasn't. It definitely wasn't normal, and after my up-close and personal encounter with that mouth, it would be pointless and too hard to pretend like there wasn't something there. Something massive, electric, and heavy. This was exactly what Zoey had been trying to tell me to do: make my move.

I leaned into his warm frame and looked up at him from under my eyelashes. "I don't regret it."

Tristan sucked in a ragged breath, shifting his body so that his back nestled into the corner of the couch. His glowing green gaze was steady and wide on me, making my heart rate speed up tenfold. "Would you regret it if I kissed you again?"

I should have told him that we needed to talk about what had just happened; that I deserved to know when he started feeling something for me, when he started missing me the way that he had but I didn't though. Those perfect lips that millions of women paid to recreate were just inches away from my face. I'd tasted those lips, that mouth, that tongue, and I hoped to God I'd be lucid enough to remember to talk to him about everything later. Right then was not the time, and he must have sensed my decision because we both leaned into each other like two impossible magnets meeting out of necessity in the middle.

His lips were on mine. Hot, velvet, and sweet lapped at me with more passion than I could ever comprehend. Tristan sucked my tongue into his mouth, and I moaned in a way that would make Zoey blush. My skin was covered in a feverish rush of blood and the sugary, clean scent that was Tristan. His hands were on my hips, and my hands were trying to pull chalupas off our laps because all I wanted right then was to sit on his face. But I'd settle for his lap.