Olivia Westview
James's lips moved over mine with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring every second of contact.
His hand, still resting at the nape of my neck, tilted my head gently, deepening the kiss. My breath caught, and all coherent thought left me. There was only him—the taste of his lips, the steady pressure of his touch, the warmth of his body so close to mine.
His other hand skimmed down the curve of my back, tracing a slow, tantalizing line that sent shivers racing along my skin. I leaned into him instinctively, my hands clutching the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only thing tethering me to reality.
When his teeth grazed my bottom lip, I gasped softly, and he used the moment to deepen the kiss further, his tongue brushing against mine. My knees felt weak, and if it
