Burning Daylight (Defying the Stars, #1)

by Emily McIntire

“Don’t saints have lips, too?” She nods, placing her hands together. “Ones they use to pray.” I move closer until the tips of my shoes touch hers, and my skin prickles from the proximity. “I’m praying to kiss you.” Her chest lifts with a heavy breath, and her mouth parts in invitation. Heat floods through me, electricity snapping between us like little stabs of lightning. “I’m no saint,” she murmurs, her eyes dropping to my lips, then slowly rising again. “But if I were, saints don’t move, even when they grant the prayers.” My stomach flips, nerves sizzling beneath my skin. I reach up, threading my fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, just like before. “Then don’t move while I act out my prayer.”