She stared at me for a long moment. Then she pulled her hands out of her pockets, grabbed the front of my jacket, and hauled me down into a kiss so hard my teeth clicked against hers.
This was nothing like the tree line. In the tree line she'd kissed me like she was confessing to a crime. Now she kissed me like she was serving the sentence herself, and she wanted it over fast.
Her fingers twisted in my collar. Her mouth was cold from the sea wind and then hot a second later, and she bit my lower lip right where Belle had split it in the shower, which made me hiss and grab her waist. She shoved me back until my shoulders hit the rock wall of the cliff.
My bad shoulder screamed. I ignored it, because Misato Ayame had her thigh between my legs and her tongue in my mouth and she was making a low furious sound in the back of her throat that I had never heard her make during nine weeks of drill.
