The air between us shifted then, the playful banter giving way to something heavier, more charged. I set my glass down on the table, suddenly unable to focus on anything but the way his eyes darkened as they swept over me.
"You know," he said, his lips quirking into a faint smile, "I've been waiting all night for this moment."
I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening. "For what?"
"For you," he said simply, before leaning in and pressing his lips to mine.
The kiss started slow, but it didn't stay that way for long.
The pent-up tension from the night—the interruptions, the teasing from my brothers, the anticipation—bubbled over, igniting between us.
"You know," I said breathlessly when he finally let me come up for air, "this wasn't the plan."
His lips curved into that signature smirk that drove me crazy. "What wasn't the plan? Celebrating?"
"This," I gestured vaguely between us, though my hands never left his shoulders.
