He teases her, drags it out. He keeps her boxed in between the door and his arms and nuzzles at her cheek and neck and keeps his lips just out of reach. His nose brushes hers and she huffs and hums and growls.
He grins, all shit-eating and smug. “What?”
She narrows her eyes and takes matters into her own hands, literally. She sneaks her hands up to cup the back of his neck and brings his lips to meet hers.
It’s an ignition of years of lingering looks and loaded touches and too many close calls. They step into the kiss and nip at each other’s lips, determined to make their first kiss leave a mark on the other.
Their first kiss is good, but when they pull away breathless, she grins at him, “I think we can do better than that.”
He grins and brushes his lips against hers, “I think so too.”