Esme melted beneath the intensity of Khải’s kiss. She’d never been kissed like this, like he’d die if he stopped. His motions were tentative at first, as if he was learning her, but he gained confidence quickly. Each aching press of his lips, each dominating sweep of his tongue, weakened her more. Her knees threatened to buckle, but she was afraid to anchor herself against him. If he stopped, she’d cry. She needed more, much more. She couldn’t breathe for needing. She kissed him back harder, and he groaned against her mouth and swept his hands down her back, across her shoulder blades, along
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