I want her, more than anything.
The countdown is over, there’s distant cheering inside, but nothing could stop me now. We kiss out this old year, and into the next, and beyond. I lose track of time, I lose track of everything except the taste of her mouth, the hot slide of our tongues, as my hands rove over her body and Zoey melts under my hands.
Finally, she pulls back, breathless and sparkling. Her cheeks are flushed, and her hair tumbles messily round her heart-shaped face.
I want to push it back, to knot it in my hands and pull her to me again. Claim her lips, her body; take this kiss way further than I have any right to do.
Zoey’s lips curve in another mysterious smile. “That’s decided then,” she says, almost to herself. “Happy New Year.”
I stand there, reeling, as she turns on her heel and heads back inside. The door slams shut behind her. I’m left alone with fire in my bloodstream and one question echoing in my mind.
Who the hell is this woman?