I wasn’t sure which of us moved first. Maybe me. Maybe Indya. One minute I was lost in those caramel eyes; the next, my hands were in that wild blonde hair, and my mouth was crushed against hers. A single lick across her bottom lip, and she parted. Our tongues tangled in that familiar, beautiful dance. She tasted the same. Sweet, like summer strawberries on a woolen blanket in a mountain meadow. Damn, this woman. How I’d missed her mouth.
