Roarke set his glass beside the bottle, then nipped hers out of her hand to do the same. She laughed as he flipped her over, and with a grumble, Galahad slid off the couch. Then his hands were on her, slipping under her baggy Saturday-at-home T-shirt. And as the kiss turned greedy, she felt her need, the wine, the moment tie together in a single perfect thrill. Nipping at his jaw, she worked her hands between them to flip open the button of his jeans.
