Even on paper. Fiona didn’t acquiesce but neither did she protest when his lips met hers. It was like ascending to heaven but Harry was no angel. He was the devil, tormenting her senses as his lips played over hers. Brushing. Coaxing. Urging her to play along. She tried to resist him, she truly did. But resistance and mental resolve were about as useful then as they had ever been when Harry was so close. Lifting her hands to his shoulders, she lifted herself to her toes and hesitantly kissed him back. “Fiona,” he murmured his encouragement against her lips, his hands trailing over her arms and around her waist pulling her closer. He kissed her again, crushing her breasts against his hard chest, leaving Fiona no choice but to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders. With a low moan of approval, he parted her lips with his so that his tongue could explore, chafing against hers. Head spinning deliciously, Fiona surrendered her better judgment and met him kiss for kiss.
