For a moment he just looked at me, after I spoke, his gaze steady, darkened with something that made my stomach tighten.
Then he leaned in, his mouth brushing mine with a slowness that was somehow more consuming than a hungry kiss.
His hand slid from my hip to my waist, then lower, fingers pressing into the curve of me in a way that made it very hard to keep still.
The bed was cold against my shoulders and back as I leaned backwards, the contrast making the heat between us almost unbearable.
I hooked my fingers in the edge of his shirt, pulling him closer. The taste of him was warm and familiar, and yet tonight it felt heightened, as if the resort air itself had conspired to make everything sharper.
When his lips left mine, they trailed along my jaw, going right back to the sensitiv
