Falling

by Christina Lauren

Brigan couldn’t remember a lover who hadn’t mindlessly devoured whatever he gave them and then greedily demanded more. He reeled in understanding when it hit him, for it had been so long: This was what real desire looked like.

He felt need like a hammer pounding beneath his skin and all along his length, but allowed himself the indulgence of a taste, coaxing one leg over his shoulder, leaning in for a kiss, a lick, and then—giving in—another and another until he was feasting on her in earnest, lost in the feel of her on his tongue, the sensation of plummeting into infatuation.