Brody’s mouth crashed against hers again, deeper this time, hungrier. Emily matched him without thinking, kissing him back with all the heat she’d been holding in for weeks. His hands slid beneath her shirt, warm and sure, sending a shiver racing up her spine.
She tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head in one breathless motion.
Her fingers traced the ridged lines of his abs — tight, defined, impossibly firm. God, he was fit. Her palms skimmed up to his chest, broad and solid beneath her touch, and the low sound he made — half‑groan, half‑laugh — sent heat rushing through her.
Brody pulled her flush against him again, his hands gliding up her sides with a touch that felt both reverent and claiming. The kiss deepened, turned molten, and a wave of desire curled low in her belly,
