Beachcomber
“All he had to do was touch his mouth to hers and heat exploded inside her like a supernova. Christy closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back as if she’d die if she didn’t.His arms tightened around her and he shifted so that they were lying side by side with his hard-muscled triceps pillowing her head. Clad in nothing but his soft cotton underwear, his body seemed to burn hers everywhere they touched. Fingers tangling in the curls at his nape, she pressed her brea...sts to his chest, reveling in the heat of it, in the abrasion of his chest hair, in the firm resilience of the muscles there, in the contrast between his hard masculine contours and her softness.The hot sweet fire they generated was enough to dry her eyes, to block out memories of Franky and Elizabeth Smolski and the danger she and Luke were in, to narrow her focus to one thing: Luke, and the way he made her feel.“I love the way you kiss,” she whispered when he broke off to slide his lips along her jaw, then pressed his open mouth to her neck.MoreLess
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