This kiss was not a chaste greeting. It was a claiming. His lips moved over hers, firm and demanding. He tasted the sweetness of her, and the faint taste of the sherry she must have had to calm her nerves.
Ines gasped, her lips parting, and Carcel took the invitation instantly. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, tasting her, devouring her.
A low sound vibrated in his throat—a growl of hunger. He moved his hands from her face to her waist, pulling her flush against him. He needed to feel her heartbeat against his own.
Ines melted into him. Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. She held on to him as if he were the only solid thing in a spinning world.
Carcel began to walk her backward. He didn't break the kiss. He couldn't. He was starving for her.
They stumbled slightly as he guided her toward the wall. Ines didn't protest. She went with him, her body pliable and soft against his hard frame.
