Our heated eyes locked. The waist length, dark brown braid, usually draped down a shoulder, coiled on the ground beside her face. Flyaway strands framed her fevered cheeks. Her chest heaved against mine, the air between us charging with storm-building energy, and I almost forgot what I was thinking. Stars, the softness of her body moved beneath mine. And that anger-flushed mouth currently pressed into a firm line . . . I had kissed that mouth to shock her, part of my getaway plan. But I could still taste the sweetness of wild strawberries on her tongue.
