Page 77 of The Clinch
He leaves the next move with me.
The first firework goes up with a hiss and a scream. Gold blooms over the ocean. The crowd reacts as one organism—cheers, phones lifting, someone clapping hard enough to make it echo. Light washes over us, sharp and bright, then fades.
My hands drift down and rest on his forearms.
Across the fire, Eden clocks us. One eyebrow goes up. Adam notices too, because Adam is professionally committed to being a menace. Matthias looks once, then away. Filed.
Another firework blooms, red then blue then white. The sound thumps in my ribs. The light washes my eyes.
He turns his head slightly, and his mouth skims my hairline, more breath than touch.
“Want me to keep going?” he murmurs.
“Yes.” The word barely makes it past my throat.
“Good.” It sounds like he’s trying not to smile.
I shift my head back until the side of my face brushes his jaw. He draws air deeper, as if he’s reining himself in.
Then, because I have to make it worse, I tilt my chin and offer him my neck. A low sound slips out of him—half warning, half want—before his mouth finds the spot just under my ear. He pushes my hair to the side, a light, gentle caress that scatters goosebumps over my skin. One kiss, placed exactly where it wrecks me.
Heat hits so fast I almost choke on my inhale.
“Is this what you like?” His voice is low. Before I can answer, his lips move again, lingering just long enough to make me feel chosen.
My fingers lock on his forearm.
He pauses.
I tip my head back a fraction more, offering the smallest “yes” I can manage without cracking open.
The sound he makes is all restraint. Then his mouth returns, deeper this time. Warmer. The edge of his teeth grazes once—no bite, just a promise. The firework crack above us rattles the air, and I barely register it.
I turn toward him. The movement is small and deliberate.
My mouth finds his. At first it’s only a graze, a taste. Warmth. Salt. A trace of beer. Devastating.
His hand firms at my waist, steadying me, and the kiss deepens. Not rushed, not greedy, but sure. He meets me and lets me set the pace. Our mouths part and our tongues brush once, and I lose track of our surroundings entirely.
When we pull apart, I face the fireworks again and pretend that kiss didn’t rearrange anything.
Leo’s hands stay at my waist, holding the place I finally allowed him to claim.
The fireworks keep going, bigger and louder over the water.
He doesn’t push, kissing me once more when the sky goes bright, then brushes his mouth to my temple. To the corner of my jaw when I tilt my head and give him permission again.
Each touch is measured. Each one ruins me a little more.
By the time the finale burns out, the beach is breaking apart around us—blankets shaken out, bottles gathered, voices drifting back toward the houses.
Leo doesn’t move right away. Neither do I.
Eden pauses beside us on her way past and looks from him to me. “Beautiful show.”
“Yeah,” I manage.
Leo stands and offers me his hand.
