His hand cupped my face, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw, sending shivers down my spine. The distance he’d created vanished as he leaned in, his lips finding mine in a kiss that was a promise, a confession. It was slow and deliberate, a soft exploration, a whisper of what was to come.

My own hands moved, releasing his shirt to tangle in the thick strands of his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. It was a dance of lips and tongues, a languid, hungry rhythm. My senses were ...