His lips brush over mine, softly, sweetly. One hand slides into my hair, cupping the back of my head, his other winds around my waist, pulling me against him. He’s all hard lines and tight muscles and smooth skin. And the way he kisses me, like I’m something to be savored, makes my knees weak. Eventually he pulls back, takes my hand, and guides me to the end of the bed. He fingers the sleeve that reaches my elbow. “Can I take some of this stuff off?” “Probably a good idea.”
