I could feel the way his lips moved against mine, eagerly working to undo me. And his lips, oh...his lips were somehow softer than I could remember,if that was even possible. His tounge, licking at my lips asking for entrance and with the way his mouth was working mine how could I deny him. Every part of me was telling me to stop, but I couldn't I just couldn't. Because I crave this, I've always craved it. Craved his hands to touch my body the way they were now making me into what ever shape he wanted. He was the artist and I was his clay. God, how I missed this. How I missed having him this close to me. "Sourwolf" I mumbled between kisses, eliciting a low growl from him. A growl which did things to me that I couldn't even begin to explain. "I love you" I whispered as he made his way to my neck. And I don't know what it was about those three words that made his body freeze. But something about them made him hesitate. "Stiles... I can't.... I'm sorry." he said as he left.