There’s the brief moment when she’s surprised to find his lips pressed against her own. Brows furrow and lashes fall to half-mast, but she doesn’t protest. Not when his mouth, so warm and soft, tastes like faint spices she just can’t seem to place, and his hands creep their way up to her waist.

          She kisses him back because it’s natural. The way her body fits against his when he pulls her closer, the grin she can feel creeping its way to his lips, the warmth, the sureness that bubbles in the pit of her stomach —-

          She’s missed this.