Even in France, she never got a really good taste of him, not like this. She was so focused on his mouth that she barely noticed him tug at the hem of her borrowed tee-shirt, pulling it free of her pants. His hands were molten where they spread across her back, caressing her skin with slow, languid motions and she shivered against him. She gave him a little exploratory bite on his lip with her flat teeth. Tristan groaned, flipping Ash over to press his heavier weight against her for just a bare moment. Ash whimpered when he pulled away to sit up and tug at his own shirt. She sat up with him, helping him out of his shirt with a hastiness that made Tristan growl eagerly. The thin cotton tee was tossed aside to join Ash’s in a pile on the floor. They reached for each other at the same moment and Ash gasped as their flesh met, fire to ice. Mashing her mouth with his, Ash yanked him on top of her as she fell back, legs wrapping around his waist, heels nestled against his ass.
