His lips are warm and firm against mine, and when he makes a low sound in his throat, a primitive hunger awakens in my chest. My fingers run through his hair as he deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips until I open them for him with a gasp.
The kiss turns greedy, desperate. He tastes like morning and danger and something uniquely him that makes me want to devour him whole. One of his hands supports his weight while the other traces down my side, setting every nerve ending on fire.
I arch into him, my body moving on instinct, seeking more of his touch, more of this fire that’s consuming me from the inside out. When his teeth catch my lower lip, I make a sound I don’t recognize—needy and wanton and utterly shameless.
“Astra,” he growls against my mouth, and the yearning
