Olivia Martins

Caspian’s kiss tasted like longing and promise. The years between us melted as his mouth claimed mine again and again, slower this time, deeper. My fingers curled into the front of his shirt, needing more than the feel of his lips. Needing him.

His hands cupped my face, steady and sure, thumbs brushing the corners of my mouth. “Olivia,” he breathed, his voice rough with restraint.

I answered by pulling him closer.

He lifted me into his arms ...