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It makes his face gentler, erasing those hard lines worn by scowling so much.
Something about his face draws me in more than ever.
Something abouthim.
And that same indescribable something must radiate off me, too.
When it happens, it shouldn’t be such a shock.
His big hand catches my waist, drags me in, and then we’re kissing in the breathless excitement of this lovely moment.
Kissing like it’s the very last time.
And if it is, the man makes it count like his life hinges on it.
He claims me gently at first. Slowly, but not hesitantly.
Shepherd Foster doesn’t strike me as a man who’s ever hesitant when he lets instinct take control.
But his lips are so warm against mine, an extension of the same braising excitement surging through my veins.
There’s pure celebration in the movement of his tongue and the charge he ignites under my skin. His growl reverberates through me, and I give back a buttery moan.
His communication isn’t verbal, no.
But you’d better believe he speaks with his body, with every movement, toasting our win today with his mouth and hands and the delicious sting of his teeth.
I soak it all up like a sun-starved plant.
Every new press of his lips whispers all the affirmation I’ve been craving, and all the filthy promises I dreamed last night.
Destiny, I fucking want you,they say.
God.
His rhythm quickens, matching the desire in my chest, the hot need that’s been braising my stomach, and as my teeth graze his bottom lip, the kiss changes.
It becomes wild, frantic, almost too much.
Messy and clumsy and greedy and intense.
Just as big a contradiction as Shepherd himself.
The heat knifing through my body is sudden and urgent.
I wrap my arms around him, phone and otters forgotten.
Well, not quite forgotten.
Even the hottest kiss of my life can’t make me forget that there are precious otters close by.
That’s why, when he bites my bottom lip again, I swallow my gasp.
This time, I won’t let him get away with getting me all hot and bothered before he hangs me out to dry, wet and cold.
I push myself closer, grabbing his shoulders, molding my body against his.
Holy hell, he’shuge.
