The only light in the room came from the fairy lights strung across her headboard, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. Johnny Kavanagh sat at the edge of her bed, his elbows on his knees, jaw clenched, heart pounding.

She stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over her chest like she was holding something in. Maybe she was. Maybe they both were.

“You kissed me,” he said, voice low and steady, eyes locked on hers. “If I had gotten the chance to kiss you first, it would have gone a little differently.”

She blinked, startled for a second—then smiled. A small, sly thing.

“You can show me,” she said, stepping forward, “on one condition.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “You can’t fall in love with me.”

His throat tightened, but he smirked anyway. “I won’t, I swear.”

“And you can’t even fall in like with me.”

Johnny tilted his head, his smile softening into something a little dangerous, a little intimate. “In that case…”

He reached for her slowly, his hand curling around the back of her thigh, fingers hot against her skin. With a gentle tug, he urged her forward until she had no choice but to lift her knee and straddle his lap, settling into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He looked up at her, breathing shallow. Then he murmured, “Our first kiss should’ve gone something like this…”

And then he kissed her—soft and slow at first, but deepening with a hunger that had been quietly building for years. Like he knew it was breaking all the rules. Like he didn’t care.

She didn’t stop him.