Rowan met her halfway.
The kiss was not slow; it was a consuming need, immediate and deep. He took her mouth with a low, possessive breath, swallowing the gasp she made. His tongue traced a searing path, demanding a response she eagerly gave. His right hand tangled ruthlessly in her hair, pulling her head back, deepening the angle, deepening the pressure. Simultaneously, his left hand slid down her back, finding the hem of her shirt. It slipped beneath the cotton, scorching a path over the curve of her hip, then moving to the soft, pliant skin of her thigh. His thumb brushed against the thin elastic of her panties, tracing the edge, a deliberate, teasing pressure. “Oh…”, she moaned, the sound muffled against his lips, arching violently against him, seeking friction.
When he finally broke
