Doyle kissed him. Whether he meant to or not, it was happening now—and it was nothing like their other kisses, which had been gentle, tentative, affectionate. This was hard and aggressive, like Doyle wanted to fight the demons Larkin carried inside by literal tooth and nail. Lips and tongue and hot breath, hands grabbing at suits, chests bumping, middles touching—all of it sparking a flame, a rebirth inside Larkin.
