IMOGEN'S POV
Isaac's hands trembled, not with hesitation, but with the intensity of wanting to do everything right, of wanting this moment to be as safe as it was necessary, as generous as it was greedy. His thumbs grazed my cheeks, tracing the salt-sticky paths left by old tears, then slid back to cradle my jaw. He kissed me like he meant to heal me by degrees, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing the shape of my mouth for every day he hadn't dared. His stubble brushed my skin and I closed my eyes, letting my other senses take over—his scent, the heat radiating from him, the soft chuff of his breath against my lips.
He pulled back just far enough for me to see the worry still flickering in his eyes, but beneath it, unmistakable hunger. I pressed closer, feeling his chest rise against mine, and he let his hands fall to my waist, steadying me as if I might collapse and take him with me.
