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His lips tease mine, fitting together perfectly, delving like he already knows me inside and out.
And he does, doesn’t he?
He’s had an iron grip on my heart for so long. Every kiss is just the key that opens my body.
He leaves me trembling, pressing so hard into him, letting him take me over, tease me, shiver me down.
I gasp as his teeth flirt with my lower lip, shifting from gentle grazing to stinging pressure.
As every stroke of his tongue leaves behind raw sensations like hot embers flying across my lips.
God, he tasteswild, so much vivid passion erupting behind his stoic face.
Even his beard drags against my cheeks, and as his tongue twines with mine, something flows inside me like liquid honey.
My blood thickens with desire.
These slick, hot, panting sounds slide between our lips, turning this into something achingly forbidden.
Kiss by steaming kiss, he shatters the walls of friendship, leaving two lovers tangled up in each other, in something burning.
Something that doesn’t know what it is.
Something that shreds me like paper.
Something with its own inertia we don’t have a prayer of stopping.
Oh my God.
Oh. My. Grant.
I’m so tingly and wet it hurts, melting for him helplessly, and it’s so amazing to feel his heart banging against his chest.
His pulse ticks against his throat as I run my hands over the hot, taut lines of his neck.
He inhales roughly, a human volcano building with pure sweet madness.
Is it bad that I like making him crazy?
Knowing I can torture him—that he’s not indifferent—that I’m all he’s ever wanted...
It’s enough to get a girl drunk with reckless thoughts.
When his huge, rough hands slip under my shirt, pushing it up to drag coarse skin over the small of my back, to clutch me against him, I’m willing to do anything.
Anything right here, right now, right in this cramped office.
Until there’s a sudden rapping at the door.
We both gasp, breaking apart like we’ve touched a live current.
Just in time as Mallory pokes her head in. “Captain Faircross? We’ve got a—oh. Oh, my.”
Ohhh, crap.
I fall out of Grant’s lap, torn between a humiliated giggle and the need to hide like a roach from sheer mortification.
Breathing hard, I brush my hand across my damp lips.
