Her sobs didn't cease; they simply melted into the kiss, her whimpers swallowed by his demanding tongue.
His free hand roamed down her side, sweeping over her ribs to palm the heavy, bare curve of her breast. The firm heat of his grip sank into her chilled flesh.
She didn't flinch. She didn't try to cover herself.
She kissed him back. Deeper. Rawer. She parted her lips eagerly, trying to anchor her very soul to him.
All her ingrained shame evaporated. He was alive, and the sheer terror of losing him had burned away her inhibitions.
She would give this arrogant, perverted man whatever he wanted.
His thumb found the stiff bud of her areola, flicking the sensitive peak. Her breath hitched sharply against his mouth. He didn't escalate the tease; he merely held her, grounding her frantic mind with the heavy, possessive weight of his touch.
She kissed him like a woman starved.
