But there was no way he was going to release her. Eleven years ago he’d let her slip through his fingers and it was not going to happen again. Not if he could help it. He wanted to know what had happened to her. What she’d been doing over the years. Whether she was okay. The questions had haunted him for eleven years and now that opportunity had delivered her to him, he was going to take it. God, she felt good. Warm and soft, her curves still fitting neatly in his hands. He tugged on her hips, pulling her even closer. She gave a gasp, the hand that wasn’t holding the swab reaching out to balance herself on something. There wasn’t anything except his bare chest. A crackle of sparks ignited in his blood the moment her small palm made contact with his skin, a blinding flash of heat that made his fingers tighten on her hips even further. Jesus, he remembered this. The chemistry they’d had.
