Gage could kiss Sheryl forever. This kiss was different than the one he’d laid on her on her doorstep days ago.
How many days, he wasn’t sure.
He wasn’t sure of anything in that moment. Only kissing Sheryl mattered. He growled as her fingernails moved up his scalp and into his hair. He turned her so she was pressed into her front door, and he kissed her like he was starving for something only she could provide.
She matched every stroke of his mouth, and he dropped his lips to her neck. “Gage,” she whispered, only encouraging him.
He could not get enough of her skin, her perfume, her lips. He kissed her again, slowing down now so he could really take his time, commit this kiss to memory. By the time he pulled away, he felt like his lips would be bruised come morning, and everyone would
