She slid her tongue into his mouth, again and again, and he angled his head for a better fit. Her body was hot against his, her skin hot. They were both damp with sweat, and he figured if they ever decided to get out of bed—and that was a long shot—they could hit the shower and do the same damn thing, over and over again, except with soap. Yeah. That sounded like a great idea. She lifted her hips against him, rocking into him, and he slid his hand down to cup her ass and hold her close. He was probably in love. About an hour ago, she’d sutured his shoulder with one of his kits, five stitches across the top. He’d thought he’d only needed three, given the complete lack of anesthetic, but she’d gone the extra mile. Of course, she’d done it naked, so there had been some compensation for the pain. She was so stacked. He thrust into her again, drawing her leg up over his hip, getting closer. “You feel so good,” she whispered against his mouth, and yeah, that pretty much summed up all of his thoughts, too—You feel so good.
