Until … he steps to me, lips covering mine, the taste of spearmint and the scent of Leo engulfing me. His hands cup my ass as he lifts me. “Wrap ’em around.” I grip his shoulders and wrap my legs around him, sliding my tongue inside his sweet, hot mouth, tasting him, his words reverberating in my head—so, so, so addictive—as he moves us across the small room. When he breaks the kiss, my bare ass hits a cold, hard surface, and he sinks to his knees. My insides catch fire. “We French kissed in the library,” he says, lips gliding across my inner thigh. I inhale a sharp, “Yeah.”
