The first touch of his lips was feather-light, almost innocent. That delicate brush only made me crave more, like a spark igniting dry tinder.
I watched his lashes flutter closed as he captured my lower lip between his, drawing it gently into the wet heat of his mouth. A tiny, involuntary gasp slipped from me, and a shiver raced across my skin, raising every fine hair on my body.
My palms settled on the hard planes of his chest. I kneaded lightly, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath my fingers.
Then he coaxed my lips apart. His tongue slid inside, and I met him without hesitation, curling mine around his, tasting the warm, earthy, unmistakably masculine flavor that was purely him.
His grip on my waist turned possessive—demanding—as he hauled me impossibly closer until our
