He stares at me hungrily, his gaze moving between my eyes and my lips, a small smile tipping the edges of his own. “I feel like you’re not an easy woman to impress, Josie.” “Seems like all of your obsessing over me has paid off a bit.” “I’m not obsessing over you,” he lies. “Sure you aren’t, baby.” I don’t have much time to revel in the flash of pleasure and heat that lights his face at my words because then his lips are on mine, and the world slows. Every bit of my focus drops to where we meet, to where his tongue glides along my bottom lip, a polite request to open, which I oblige too
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