Zella
His mouth slanted over mine in a kiss that was more possession than tenderness, stealing my breath. His hand at my nape held me in place, forcing me to take every deep, devouring stroke of his tongue against mine. My fingers curled helplessly against the pool tiles as he licked, sucked, teased my mouth in a slow torturous way until I was dizzy, wet everywhere, and trembling like a live wire.
“You’re jealous,” he murmured between kisses. “Admit it.”
“You’re conceited,” I bit back, panting heavily.
“Jealous,” he repeated, and pulled away. I reached out to grab him because I was afraid he was leaving but he only wanted to shed off his clothes. He chuckled at the red hot blush that filled my cheeks, shedding every inch of his clothes until he stood gloriously bare under the moonlig
