James was igniting flames inside of her… and he was setting her on fire. Shadow and light reflected off his skin in equal measure as he settled himself beside her, resting, Lily could not help but notice, on the left side of his body. She laid flat on her back, one arm crooked behind her head, the other wound around James’ waist as though it were the most natural thing in the world to mold her body against his. He was kissing her slowly, his mouth moving with lingering softness over her lips, occasionally drifting lower to suckle the curve of her jaw or higher to tickle the sensitive bud of her earlobe. In the past, Lily’s kisses had always been stolen in the dark; a quick, almost painful mating of lip and tongue that left her mouth bruised and her heart feeling oddly hollow. Never in a hundred years had she imagined kissing could be like this. James took his time with her, as though she were a fine wine meant to be sipped and cherished, not a rough shot of brandy to be quickly swallowed.
