His lips settled over hers without hesitation. He wasn’t shy. But for a frozen handful of seconds, Jess was only aware of one thing: It had been nearly twelve years since she’d kissed anyone but Dylan Beaumont. Panic flooded her veins. She went rigid and resistant. She’d never been one for the thrill of the unknown and his lips playing across hers were foreign and frightening. She’d never allowed herself a moment to imagine that, once her ire cooled and her routine began to reform, she might want someone new in her life. She wasn’t prepared for this at all. Chris pulled back a fraction, his lips just barely brushing hers. “What’s wrong,” he whispered, “with having a little fun after what he did to you?” Jess felt like she’d been slapped. He was right. At what point, during all his own fun – when he’d courted and kissed and been with another woman – had Dylan ever let her cross his mind?
