This time his kiss was neither gentle nor soft; this time it was insistent and compelling, and somehow the feel of his tongue stroking hers sheared away all her inhibition. She pressed against him, clinging to his shoulders. His arm was around her waist, dragging her off her toes and into his kiss. Before she knew it her back was against the wall, her arms were around his neck, and he was kissing the side of her jaw as his hands roamed over her body with shocking assurance. “Don’t kiss me,” she whispered even as she tipped her head to let him do just that. “Only if you don’t kiss me.” His breath was hot on her skin. Penelope threaded her fingers through his hair, ostensibly to pull his head away, but she got distracted by the feel of his hair around her fingers. How many times had she wondered what it felt like, and now here she was, plowing both hands into the silky, coal-black strands as he sank to his knees, his head bent over her bosom.
What do You think about Love In The Time Of Scandal?
