I pulled him against me, practically hauling him into my lap, but it didn't even have to do with sex. I wanted to feel the weight of him, his sharp knees and elbows, the warmth of him straddling my lap. I opened up to the kiss. I put things into it that I shouldn't have. I slipped a hand up the back of his shirt, just to splay my fingers out against his ribs, feeling them expand with each breath.

"You're not going anywhere," I said, before I could stop myself. It wasn't a real promise, but even saying it, even wanting it, meant something. Even I couldn't deny that.