Maya's POV
I could taste the whiskey from his lips and tongue. His warmth and scent was like a drug that kept me from realising that anyone could walk up to us at any time. We were in a public space.
He finally broke the kiss, breathing ragged, his forehead pressed hard against mine. His eyes, dark and wild in the terrace shadows, searched mine.
A low groan rumbled in his chest, part triumph, part desperation. His hand slid from my hair to cradle the back of my neck, his other arm still locked like steel around my waist. He didn't kiss me again. He just held me there, pressed against him, his breath hot on my temple, our hearts hammering a frantic, synchronized rhythm against each other through the thin barriers of silk and tuxedo wool. The cool night air did nothing to cool the heat ra
