My hands moved down her body—her beautifully, maddeningly curved body—and f**k, if it didn’t have an instant effect on me. I needed her. I wanted her. Every inch of her. My hand snaked its way around her back, pulling her tighter against me, as if our bodies needed to fuse together in that moment. The other hand settled low on the curve of her ass, claiming a space that felt like it had always belonged to me.
Her hands moved too, threading into my hair, her fingers curling and tightening slightly, just enough to make my breath catch. Her lips moved against mine like we had done this a thousand times before, like muscle memory had kicked in, and we were two puzzle pieces just falling into place. It was effortless, intoxicating. Natural, even. Like we were always meant to find our way here.
