His hands cradled my head. He ran his fingers over my lips, his callouses rasped over the soft skin while his eyes searched mine.
My heart turned gymnast. It flipped and rolled and did handsprings. What score would the judges give?
I never found out, as his face moved toward me. His lips stole my breath. They brushed across mine, starting a rhythm that matched my heart. And I got the impression that he was as unsteady as I felt.
The increasing pressure of his his mouth pushed my lips apart. His tongue raised the stakes as it caressed the softness of my mouth.
The gentle flicks against my tongue woke up an urgency in me I didn’t know existed. I threw myself at him. My teeth scraped his tongue and lips. My tongue pushed into his mouth. My body pressed tight to his hard planes. My hands roamed his back, his muscles rippling beneath my palms.
He eased away from me. Embarrassment at my reaction crept into my face. I tried to disengage, but he refused my request. He held me close so he could examine me through the microscope of his dark eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I stuttered out. My eyes darted anywhere but his face.
A gentle hand swept over my cheek, it cupped my neck. His thumb skimmed the tender skin under my earlobe.
The effect was incredibly soothing.
“Do not apologize for passion, angel. You don’t have to be afraid of your feeling with me. I enjoy every new facet of you I uncover.”
I started another apology, but he cut it off with a firm, quick press of lips.
“I wish I had time now. Next time we meet I am going to see how I can unravel your defenses and find out what passion lies beneath.”
He gave me one last kiss. His body let go of me and I stumbled back. I walked to the door, my vision hazy, my body unbalanced.
“Until tonight,” he promised.
My center clenched. I didn’t dare look back. Tonight?
I glanced over my shoulder and he smoldered.
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