I let my eyes drift shut, leaning my forehead against his mouth (which tasted like caramel, for some reason I wasn’t going to question or complain about).
“What do you think?” I asked breathlessly, my skin burning in every place he had touched it.
“Of course. I should— I should be the one asking that question, not you.”
I still couldn’t fathom it, the fact that Grayson Jules, the man I had known since ninth grade, was holding me in his wonderfully strong arms after kissing me into oblivion.
I still couldn’t fathom the fact that I’d wanted him enough to kiss him back.
“Did I do a good job?”