He stopped protesting the moment their lips met. The sound he made then was wounded and completely involuntary. The contact was brief but – kill him now – so perfect the world would never be the same again. How was he ever going to go back to being the same again?

When he felt her hands on his cheeks, he willed his eyes open. Met her intuitive gaze slowly, because he was unable to hide. There never had been much pretending with Amanda.

“Lance,” she said, with a lilt that sounded much too like an apology. As if this had been a mistake. Yet another mistake he’d have to live with… through.

She was staring into his eyes as if she could see straight into his soul with that shrewd violet gaze. Her eyes were narrowed. She was concentrating and he was trying not to cry.

What a fucking mess.

What a fucking baby.

What a relief when she reached up on tiptoes to resume that kiss.

“God,” his thoughts in her husky voice. “Yes.”

And Lance knew what to do with that. Let himself, leaving the repercussions and questions for some other time. There was plenty of time to hurt later.