Page 7 of The Latin Lover


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Then that big hand was pulling her head back, and his own was coming down. Their lips were touching. They kissed. At first carefully, as if neither could believe this was actually happening. Then they were devouring each other. Lips and teeth moving, clashing…claiming. She’d never been kissed like this. She’d never kissed this way either.

So erotically—like they were having sex with their mouths. Making love as surely as if they were both naked and writhing together on a bed.

So possessively—like they were marking each other for life, claiming the taste, feel and scent of one another in a molding of mouths as intimate as any other act of love.

So intently—like nothing and no one else existed in their universe.

She couldn’t get enough of the feel of his lips against hers, of the taste of his mouth. Of anything.

It was all so very wonderful…amazing…unexpected.

So perfect.

She’d had so many dreams of this moment, and none of them even came close to the overwhelming sensuality of his actions or her own.

Strong hands grasped her bottom and lifted her until her body was not only flush with his, but the apex of her thighs cradled an unmistakable hardness. Her own hands had been forced to let go of his hips as she was lifted, so she locked them behind his neck.

The bunching of muscles against her and a sense of disorientation told her they were moving, but she was so focused on the kiss she couldn’t be bothered to lift her head and find out where. Then the hard wall was against her back, and that hardness was being thrust against her in a way that sent jolts of electric pleasure zinging through her.

One right after another. Until she felt like she was going to explode any moment in a shower of sparks.

And still the kiss went on. And on. And on.

He tasted her; his tongue dominated the interior of her mouth; his teeth rubbed against her own. It was hot…passionate. Completely astonishing.

Spiros was always so suave, so laid back. She hadn’t known he had this inside him. Or, frankly, that she had it inside herself. However, the shock coursing through her in no way impinged on her passion.

His hard body held her against the wall, and despite the heat he emanated she was shivering with reaction. Desperate little noises came out of her mouth—muffled by his lips and tongue, but there all the same.

She needed more. Oh, please. Just a little more.

Her body tried to tell him what she needed, since she couldn’t do so with words. Her pelvis pressed against him in an instinctive move she had never practiced before. Her legs spread, making room for him to press against her feminine center more fully. And he did.

The sensation was so intense she screamed into his mouth, her body racked with shudders. The pleasure built and built. She was sure she was going to shatter into a million pieces any second. But she didn’t. And the ecstasy did not abate either. It got bigger and bigger. She couldn’t possibly hold it all in.

What was happening to her?

It was so intense, so much.

The man she loved was doing this…she was doing this. This was so much more than a kiss. This was a melding of their souls.

The thought sent the stars inside her exploding into a supernova of delight so consuming that the world went black around the edges and then disappeared altogether.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she woke. But her eyes did not open. Her body felt languid. Not tense, like she usually was during finals week. As she lay there she tried to make sense of where she was—when it was. She had been studying. Spiros had come. Images flashed through her mind. Then memory came flooding back in a tidal wave, accompanied by remembered pleasure, and she moaned.

“Phoebe, byba, are you all right?”

She opened her eyes to see a nervous-looking Spiros hovering beside her bed. He was frowning, his hair a tumbled mess of curls around his face. He’d obviously been running his fingers through it.

She smiled, though it was an effort. She was wrecked. If a kiss could do that to her, how would she ever survive making love completely?

She realized she’d asked the question aloud when Spiros’s frown got darker. “You are overtired from studying too many hours and not eating. You must take better care of yourself.”

“Trust me when I tell you that today is the not the first time I missed my dinner. And I’ve never passed out like that.”

“Naturally not. You are promised to Dimitri. You are not kissing other men. I should never have kissed you.”

She wasn’t getting into her attempts to overcome her feelings for Spiros. He would never understand. He truly considered her engaged to Dimitri, even though no formal announcement had ever been made. And now was not the time to discuss her differing perspective on the subject. He looked so miserable.

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