Thursday, September 12, 2013
Every time he touched her, she melted, and whenever she was in that semi-liquid state, she couldn’t refuse him anything. God help her. So when he tilted her face toward his, she shuddered, closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of his citrusy aftershave mixed with a masculine soap. He smelled so good. When his soft lips covered hers and his strong fingers curled around the back of her neck, all thoughts of serial killers, medical tests and Bruce flew from her mind as though they were being pursued by Homeland Security.
This time his kisses were different–long, deep and a bit rough. Gianne found her hands grasping and fingernails digging into the taut muscles of his shoulders. Marc devoured the soft sounds she couldn’t resist making. When his lips left her mouth and moved to her neck, and his hands traveled up her spine in a languid crawl, any reservations she’d had about their relationship becoming more serious evaporated into the charged air surrounding them. Marc’s hands inched down to the small of her back and rested on the curve of her bottom. He gently squeezed, uttered a moan then lifted her onto his lap, never breaking the kiss.
Gianne sighed when he slipped the strap of her sundress over her shoulder and kissed the skin beneath. But when he lowered that side of the dress further and focused his attention on her bare nipple, she thought she’d left her body and rocketed to a celestial location. Marc’s hand crept under her dress, between her thighs and they parted of their own volition. Shocked by her response to this man she hadn’t even known a month ago, she pressed her hands against his chest. The thundering of his heartbeat beneath her palms stunned her, and she asked in a breathless whisper, “What are we doing, Marc?”
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