“Marc?” Bree stepped closer, the scent of her shampoo wrapping around him. “What’s wrong?”
Nothing. Everything. With a muffled growl, he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her into him. She gasped, her mouth opening, and he swept his tongue inside. Even ten years later, he still recognized the softness of her lips, the little groan that escaped her before she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back.
This was no innocent peck between old friends. This was heat and desire and passion, tongues stroking, teeth nipping, breath panting. They were two strong-willed people, fighting for dominance. He slid one hand down her back to cup her ass, tugging her hips forward until their bodies met from shoulder to knee.
In response, she slipped one foot between his, arching into him. She gripped the back of his head, her nails scoring sharp little stings in his scalp. Her teeth nipped at his mouth.
It was anger and lust, white-hot and clear as glass.
It was every emotion he’d felt since last night rolled into one.
Turning her, he backed her blindly into the locker bank. Urging her leg up, he wrapped it around his waist, rocking into her in a steady rhythm that built and built. Her head dropped back, banging against the metal locker with a hollow thunk.
He ripped his mouth away from hers, sliding his lips down her cheek to her jawline, feathering over the
column of her neck, until he reached the sensitive spot where her pulse raced right under the skin. He mouthed over it, grimly satisfied at her gasping cry. Then he latched on and sucked.
Bree whimpered brokenly, tilting her head back to the side to give him better access, until he pulled away.
Already he could see the redness rising on her pale skin.
She was marked, where anyone could see.
It shouldn’t please him as much as it did.
(c) Kate Davies, 2013, Carina Press
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