Only his touch, his chest pressing down on her, his hips and legs fusing with hers. Yes.
Of all the kisses they’d shared, this one was meant for her. Only her.
There was but one reason for him to kiss her now: because he wanted to kiss her. Me, Priscilla Fellowes.
But it was also need. Desperate, shaking, nonsensical need.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let me love you.”
If it had been fate that brought them together, she’d exhibited a cruel sense of humor.
Because it didn’t matter that Emerson’s mouth fit hers like the opposite half of a broken shell—the two of them were doomed.
They had been since the moment they met.
So she would take the only thing she could.
One last kiss.
Or more.
He stilled, and she opened her eyes. He had propped himself on his elbows, hovering above her, protecting her from his full weight.
And his eyes, rich and dark, searched hers.
She nodded.
She would say yes to this—for him—but also for herself.
“This was always going to happen.” He caressed her cheeks, her jaw.
“Yes,” she agreed.
“Fate?” He exhaled a smile, and she smiled back.
“Perhaps.”
Absorbing his heat with the evidence of his arousal pulsing almost painfully into the soft flesh of her thigh, she never wanted to move from this place.
He looked like he might say more, but instead, keeping his gaze fixed on hers, he kissed her again.
And kissed her more, drinking like a man lost in the desert. He tasted her mouth, her jaw, her neck and then returned to her mouth again.
“I love this mouth,” he growled.
The sound of thunder roared outside, matching the need in her heart.
And she kissed him back.
Once more.
And then again. The kiss, although tender to start, grew in ardor. And as his hand stroked the tender flesh at her opening, she worked the fasteners of his falls. She wanted to hold him again, but even more than that, she wanted him inside her. She wanted to be all around him. She wanted to be consumed.
“These lips,” he growled into her mouth. “Mine.”
Priscilla wound her fingers around his throbbing length and squeezed ever so gently. She felt the tremor that ran through him everywhere.
“Mine,” she echoed.
