FLINN
My gut dropped as soon as our lips touched, an up-and-down feeling I had never experienced before while kissing anyone else.
My hand worked its way up, cradling her head, fingers straying through the hair tresses of their own volition as our hot mouths met and pulled each other in desperation, like sucking for air.
She groaned against my lips, and I seized the opportunity, tracing my tongue against hers, finding the heat of her and plunging into it. She tasted as sweet as nectar, and I edged closer to the gate of heaven, tracing my lips against hers softly at first, seeking the groans and gasps, trying to figure out how she liked to be kissed—passionately? Sweetly? Ardently? Leisurely?
—until I struck the precise pressure that curved her ankle vine around mine, her toes curled in
