“Anything you need,” I promised on an encouraging nod. “I’ll get you through this. I swear it.”
When I leaned in to kiss his forehead, however, he jerked his face up, seeking my mouth.
His lips collided with mine, urgent and fumbling. But then he seemed to align himself, and as soon as he found the best angle from which to kiss me, a firm self-assurance spiked through him, and his tongue drove boldly into my mouth, capturing my own.
He cupped my breasts, massaging them through the fabric of my dress with confident, shocking strokes before he flipped the cloth down from the bustline and my bare bosoms spilled into his palms.
“Oh God,” I wheezed when we broke for air.
He came away from the tree, seeking my mouth again, and the moment his lips reclaimed mine, he compelled me down onto my
