She lowered her hand. Dorian was staring at her. He leaned forward. She did too. Then his lips touched hers. Deep in her mind, a voice yelled, Stop! Pull away! But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Instead, she leaned closer and placed her hand lightly, almost tentatively, on his shoulder. His lips moved over hers, soft and questioning, asking rather than demanding. Desire roared through her, and any hint of fear or worry dissipated. She clung to his shoulder and parted her lips. His tongue darted into her mouth, and, despite the hunger threatening to consume her, its touch was still gentle. A tang of something metallic seeped into her awareness. Blood, her mind whispered, but her body was too engaged, too caught up in kissing this man she’d only just met, for the concern to harden. With both of her hands grasping his shoulders, she brushed all apprehension aside. She’d known she needed something, and now she realized it was this— Dorian’s touch and Dorian’s kiss.
