With a low, guttural sound that was both a groan and a sigh, he closed the distance between them. His lips crashed against hers, fierce and demanding, as if all the pent-up desire, all the months of denial, had finally burst free.
The kiss was not gentle. It was raw, desperate, and consuming, a collision of two souls who had spent too long pretending they didn't crave each other. Lyra's hands found their way to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if she needed something to anchor her amidst the storm of emotions threatening to drown her.
