His mouth shifted to the corner of hers, then to her jaw, then to the sensitive place beneath her ear where her pulse hammered. The kiss there was slower, deliberate.
His fingers traced the curve of her waist as if memorizing it, then slid around her back, careful. When his hand brushed the line of her breast, Caroline shuddered without meaning to.
Caroline met his eyes. They were dark and filled with passion, mirroring her own emotions. She could see the want in them, the need. It was intoxicating.
She lifted her hands to his chest, fingers dragging over warm skin. The sight of him—broad shoulders, the tension in his abdomen—made something in her chest twist, hot and aching.
Her dress suddenly felt like too much.
Thorne's hands rose again, a fraction of a pause that was a question.
