“Yes.” He surged to his feet, tipping over the piano bench, and he wrapped his arms around me and held me as if he’d never let go. He sought my mouth with his, and we moved in a slow dance of passion away from the piano.
The kiss was greedy, devouring, and he made those low, desperate sounds that drove the fire in me higher. I buried my hands in his hair, moving his head first one way, then the other, needing to make the kiss deeper. His hands were all over me, stroking, petting, arousing me to the point where if I didn’t have him naked under me now, I’d spontaneously combust.
Quinn was feeling the same way; we’d been lovers long enough for me to tell. His cheeks were flushed, his lips were parted, and he was panting, short puffs that warmed my skin where they caressed it.
“Now, Mark.”
