Page 284 of When a Soul Cries

That hit different.

I kissed her again, and this time Sol was the one who pulled me closer.

Somewhere between the kitchen and the bedroom, the careful kisses turned hungrier. We bumped into a wall once because neither one of us was paying attention to where the hell we were going, and Sol started laughing against my mouth.

I laughed too.

She caught my bottom lip between hers for another kiss as we kept moving.

Then another.

By the time we reached the bedroom, weeks of tension had followed us through the door.

There was no emergency tonight.

Nobody needed saving.

Sol wasn’t accepting something from me because she had nowhere else to go.

She was here because she’d chosen to come.

She was choosing me.

And that mattered.

What started tender didn’t stay that way for long.

At some point, whatever little bit of home training I had left apparently packed its shit and left Dahlonega.

Because I lifted my head and looked at Sol.

“Hold up.”

Sol blinked at me, already breathless. “What?”

“Stay right there.”

Her eyebrows pulled together. “Rome, where are you going?”

I was already headed toward the bathroom.

“I’ll be right back.”

I heard her call my name again as I disappeared around the corner, but I ignored her.

And that was how I ended up returning to the bedroom with a clear cup in my hand.

Sol’s eyes immediately dropped to it.

Then slowly returned to my face.

“What are you doing?”

I climbed back onto the bed.

“Spread your legs, baby.”

Her brows shot up. “Why do you have a cup?”