There's always been a magnetism to Aaron Kristensen, a certain charm that people can't look past.

As he sat there today, smirking at me, I realized I couldn't look past it either.

He just looked hypnotic, on the couch, reading me like an open book.

And next thing I knew, we were kissing each other, me sitting in his lap as I felt his soft lips against mine.

It was one of those kisses where everything else disappears, where I couldn't hear or feel or see anything but him.

It was one of those kisses that leave you breathless.

And it was one of those kisses that makes you grin uncontrollably afterwards.

"Holy fuck," Aaron whispers. His lips are pink, and his hair is dishevelled on his head.

"Holy fuck," I say back while nodding into his shoulder.

He brings my face forward and pulls down my lip, dragging his thumb along the bottom row of my teeth.

"You're telling me I've missed out on this for three years?" he asks.

"Looks like we need to make up for lost time."

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