His thumbs stroke over the soft skin under my ears, and his gaze drops to my mouth and heats. Hands flexing, he draws me forward a few inches before he suddenly lets go and retreats a full step. “Damn it. Touching you was a bad idea.” “The worst,” I agree, but my tongue skims my lower lip. He groans and my core melts at the sound. “Kissing you would be a cataclysmic mistake.” “Calamitous.” What would it take to hear that groan again?
