Gingerbread Latte

Chapter 25 - Burden

"Battered and wrecked,
I come to you, you first—"

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Max's POV

"So, will you ever tell me what happened with your parents?" Valerie asked, her voice soft as she leaned into me. My arm instinctively wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her closer until she was nestled perfectly against my side. Her scent—sweet, familiar—filled my lungs, grounding me in a way that nothing else could.

It was like the world calmed the moment she was in my arms, the chaos inside me ebbing away.

I glanced down at her, unable to resist teasing her, "I'll tell you if you kiss me," I said. Her head tilted up, her eyes meeting mine with a playful yet unfazed look, as if she knew exactly what I was trying to do and refused to let me win that easily. God, I loved that about her.

Smiling, I reached out with my other hand and gently pinched her adorable nose.

After her shift, I picked her up, grabbed takeouts, and came here. We were parked at the overlook, the same one I'd brought her to before, where the world felt far away and it was just the two of us. It was quiet, secluded—perfect. No risk of being caught. As much as I wanted to shout to the whole damn world that she was mine again, I respected her boundaries, her need for privacy. I would do it her way, for now.

"A small peck on the cheek?" she bargained, her eyebrow raising in a challenge.

I shook my head, "A kiss to the lips," I said, my voice firm but playful.

She sighed, narrowing her eyes as if weighing her options, "A small peck to the lips?" She was bargaining her way to victory and winning.

"Fine," I sighed dramatically, feigning defeat.

Her smile widened as she edged closer, closing the gap between us with the kind of innocence that could drive a man insane. She pressed a light kiss to my lips, barely there, a whisper of a touch, and just as she was about to pull back, I couldn't resist anymore. I've missed her way too much to let go now. My hand slid to the side of her neck, fingers resting against her soft skin, and before she could retreat, I leaned in and captured her lips fully.

The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as I savored every second, every sensation. Her lips were warm, soft, and the taste of her—sweet, intoxicating—ignited something primal in me. I felt her exhale softly into the kiss, her breath mingling with mine, and my heart raced. I tilted my head, changing the angle just slightly, deepening the connection as my thumb brushed along her jawline, tenderly tracing the contours of her face.

She responded, her hesitation melting away as she leaned into me, her hand sliding up my chest, fingers curling into my shirt, as if needing something to hold onto. The air between us shifted, thick with tension, the kind that pulled you in and refused to let go.

My lips moved against hers, slow but hungry, tasting, teasing, drawing her closer. Each second felt like it stretched out, like the world outside that overlook had disappeared, and all that mattered was this moment, the heat building between us, her soft whimpers getting lost in the kiss.

Her hands were on my shoulders now, fingers digging in just enough to send a spark through me. She was breathless when we finally broke apart, and I kept my forehead resting against hers, our breaths mingling as we both struggled to steady the racing of our hearts.

"Now," I whispered against her mouth, "About my parents..."

Me bringing this topic right after we'd kissed like there was no tomorrow, had her chuckle softly. She leaned back just slightly, her gaze settling on me with such softness that it made my heart constrict in the most painful, beautiful way. I couldn't look away. I couldn't stop drinking her in, memorizing every detail of her face, committing it to the deepest parts of my memory, where it would stay forever.