The first hot swipe of his tongue parting my lips, thrusting into my mouth like it belonged there, sent everything I’d ever known about sex and desire tumbling from my head. There was no history of abuse. No nerves about how my newly recovered body might react to such passion. There was only Dante Salvatore. And me. Not Elena Moore or Elena Lombardi. Not lawyer or sister, bitch or loner. Just a man and woman tangled together in the most fervent kiss I ever could have imagined.
