Page 120 of The Incredible Ordinary

“Jordan,” he says in a low voice.

It’s an invitation. It’s on me to take that first step.

I don’t need persuading. I lean forward, just an inch. A test. He moves the rest of the way.

The kiss is soft at first, barely a brush of lips.

An “are we really doing this?”

But then Milán’s hand slides to my jaw, warm and steady and sure, and whatever little bit of hesitation I might’ve carried with me melts away.

I shift closer, my knees bumping into his. He tugs me closer still, and we fall back against the couch cushions together. Slowand deliberate at first, Milán’s fingers slide into my hair. I can feel the warmth of his body pressed along mine.

Everything outside the living room ceases to exist while the kiss grows more intense. While we’re busy learning the shape of each other’s mouths, the rhythm of each other’s breaths, the way tension turns into fire between us.

I throw my leg over his and pull him closer. He leans on the cushion next to me, keeping us from tumbling over.

And we kiss.

And I’m so fucking into it.

He groans and pulls me forward, so I end up straddling him. He slides his hands underneath my shirt, and my breathing hitches audibly. Hot palms make their way from my back to my stomach, and my abdominal muscles tighten with anticipation. I cup his face, his stubble scratching my skin. It’s foreign and strange and at the same time somehow natural.

One of his hands is pressed against my back again. The weight of it feels like it’s grounding me while I sink closer.

I’m hard as a rock by now, pressing Milán against the couch cushions, my body seeking friction, my mind not exactly caught up to what I’m doing. I’m in a haze of need, and it stops me from being self-conscious, because let’s be fucking real, I have no idea what I’m doing here.

But I can feel his hard length pushing against mine.

And I like it.

I’m into it.

Milán’s hand tightens on my thigh, and I gasp.

“Jordy?” he pants softly.

“Yeah?” I breathe into his mouth.

“Somebody’s coming.”

It takes me a moment to hear it through the buzzing in my ears, but then I register the footsteps.

I fling myself off Milán and away from him. I hastily straighten my shirt and pat down my hair.

By the time Dad appears in the doorway, we’re back to properly sitting a few feet away from each other.

“You’re still up,” I say sternly. Also breathlessly. And I really fucking hope he can’t tell.

“Didn’t hear you two come in,” Dad says.

“We’re watching a movie.” I say it just a bit too quickly and maybe a tad defensively.

“I can see that.”

“It’s good. Interesting. Lots of intense scenes. A lot of… plot,” I say because my head is empty of all thoughts, and I can still feel Milán’s lips on mine.

On the screen, some dude jumps out from behind a corner and starts mowing the bad guys down with a machine gun.