agonizing. Perfect torture. And I know I’m going to be addicted to kissing him if it keeps on feeling like this. His arms are rock-hard. Chiseled muscles. I can’t feel my legs. A moan slides out of me, pressing hard against his body. He grips the back of my neck tight and I sigh, forgetting everything but how amazing he feels. When he hears me, his kiss changes. The motions, the intensity. Like a switch, it moves from angry to gentle. Full of promises. All kinds of vows he can’t keep.
