Famine (The Four Horsemen, #3)

by Laura Thalassa

His lips are soft like satin. I don’t remember that from the last time I kissed him. And like the last time I kissed him, Famine doesn’t immediately react. I think he must be shocked. The only reason the kiss continues at all is because I’ve nearly drunk my weight in booze, and my self-confidence is at an all-time high. But then the Reaper’s lips do begin to move, and suddenly he’s returning the kiss with a passion that I’m struggling to match. He reaches out, catching me by the waist. With a deft yank he pulls me onto his lap. I rearrange myself so that I end up straddling him. The horseman holds me tight against his body, his hands moving to my hips. All the while his lips devour mine. I’m shocked to feel that beneath me, he’s hard. I’d seen his heated looks and I’d read the interest in his body language, but this is actual proof that Famine feels desire—and for me of all people.