His tongue parts my lips, dipping into my mouth in that slow, seductive way I’ve yet to find since him and I moan. My hands slip over his biceps, over the bulges and defined ridges. His hands cup my face, tilting my head so he can tongue me deeper and harder. Fuck my life, this kiss is sex—this is what sex is supposed to be, and I still have all my clothes on. Every part of my body is heated, every last inch of me tingling. I’m wet and I hate him for it.
