First Contact

He takes the last step and his hand catches the back of her neck, calluses rough against the soft skin behind her ear, and pulls her into him. Her palms hit his chest—not to push, just to steady herself—and she feels the vibration of a low sound in his throat as his mouth crashes against hers, hard and desperate and tasting like the cigarette he just put out. Jasmynn's knees bend against the side of his bike and she gasps into his mouth, one hand fisting his jacket while the other slides up into his hair, and the kiss doesn't break until he's got her half-sitting on the seat, her spine arching off the cold metal.