With a soft groan that rumbled deep in Libby’s throat, she parted her lips and deepened their kiss. The light incursion of Libby’s tongue grazing the tip of hers had an immediate, dizzying effect. There was nothing but teeth and lips and urgency. They were wanderers crawling out of the desert desperate for water as they reached an oasis. With a familiarity she had no right to feel, Reagan reached forward and gripped Libby’s thighs, sliding her roughly onto her lap. Instead of protesting, Libby moaned as she wrapped her legs around Reagan’s waist and grabbed fistfuls of her short hair.
