The air in the living room felt thick, charged with a static electricity that made the fine hairs on Gage’s arms stand on end. He held her waist with a grip that bordered on bruising, his fingers sinking into the yielding softness of her hips.
Tessa looked up at him, her chest heaving, the small, pale mounds of her breasts nearly spilling over the top of her lace bra.
"You're shaking, Gage," she whispered, a playful, triumphant glint in her eyes.
"I'm not shaking," he lied, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in his own
chest. "I'm vibrating. There's a difference."
Tessa laughed, the sound a melodic chime that cut through the tension. She slid her hands up his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the expensive fabric of his dress shirt. She could feel his heart hammering, a wild
