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Not any woman. Jilly.
She tasted like coffee and something sweet that he couldn't identify.
He couldn't help it. He deepened the kiss, needing more of her.
And she turned to flame in his arms. Her hands wound around his neck, and she pressed close just long enough for him to get his arms all the way around her.
And then she was gone, burst away from him as if he were covered in poison ivy.
He could hear her heaving breaths over his own.
"I don't—I can’t—"
He couldn't understand her fractured stammer any more than he could wade through the tsunami of sensations crashing through him.
"Jilly—" He wanted to ask for a moment to try and catch his breath, capture some sort of balance.
But she was already gone.
