Wyatt Hawthorne's kiss didn't stop; it only grew more intense.
Faye Vaughn was breathless, a deep blush spreading across her cheeks.
Wyatt Hawthorne had already taken her phone, silently slipping it into his own pocket.
Faye Vaughn suddenly raised her hands, wrapped them around his lean waist, and deepened the kiss.
She rose onto her tiptoes, putting everything she had into it, as if vying for dominance in the kiss.
Wyatt Hawthorne countered, holding her fast as he bent his head to kiss her deeply.
The air between them grew heavy and charged.
Their breaths mingled, ragged and feverish.
Faye Vaughn's breath hitched, and she pleaded softly, "Enough..."
Wyatt Hawthorne looked down at her. Her fair, delicate face was flushed, her eyes shimmering and dazed—a heart-stoppingly beautiful sight.
"Forget the noodles for now. We can eat later."
Wyatt Hawthorne moved to lift her into his arms, but Faye Vaughn pressed a palm against his chest.
