Chapter Twenty Two

He moved closer, reducing the inches that separated them, noticing the tip of her tongue as it snaked out to moisten her lips.

Katherine swallowed. What was going on? She thought. What was he doing? The gap between them was closing, and instinct made her step backwards—away from his inexorable path towards her.

He moved closer still. Katherine stopped moving and he grabbed her and pulled her against his hard body.

"J—Jensen! What do you think you are doing?'

He heard her stumbled words with a triumphant kick of pleasure. He liked knowing that she reacted that way towards him. Even if she was trying really hard to act like she didn't want him anymore.

She stared up at him with widened eyes. She put her hands against his chest to stop him. But that was a mistake because when she placed her hands on him, all she wanted to do was run her hands all over his chest and cling to him.

He stared at her hard, then slid his arms around her. She didn't resist when he pulled her up tight to him.

"I'm doing what I should have done that damn night, Kat. I shouldn't have walked away. Or maybe I did the right thing that night. I don't know. I only know there is no way in hell I'm leaving today before I have kissed you."

Her fingers twisted into his shirt, just to make sure he didn't change his mind. She knew she should probably stop him, but she didn't. Every thought flew right out of her head. She wanted him to kiss her so bad. This was a bad idea. She knew. But right now, she didn't want to think. Nothing else mattered except being in his arms.

He didn't move, waiting for her consent.

She tugged on his shirt and lifted her chin.

And just like that, his lips were were on hers. His kiss was firm and commanding. In control. And skilled. Oh, so skilled. She had missed this so much. She thought.

She parted her mouth and his tongue was inside her in a flash. She melted against him, trusting him to hold her upright, and he did, with a low growl of approval. Their mouths moved as one, in a dance as seductive as a tango.

He took and she gave, then she rose on her toes and took from him, and his fingers gripped her waist and held her there. Her hands were eager to be part of the game and slid up so she could clutch the back of his head.

Their teeth clicked together and apart and together again, and it wasn't enough for her. She wanted more, and she stretched even taller to meet him. To have a moment of control all for herself.

As if knowing what she needed, Jensen bent his knees, then lifted her up so her head was above his. The kiss never broke, but now she was the one being demanding.

She was the one taking over. Her hands cupped his face. He stared up at her with a fire that mirrored hers. Startled, she pulled back.

Jensen let her slide slowly down to her feet, his eyes never leaving hers. He kissed her again, but this kiss was different. This was a kiss with more uncertainty in it, as if he was exploring some new territory where he had never been before. Tender, cautious and slow. He drifted from her lips to her chin, then down her neck and up to the tender skin below her ear, then back to her lips.

She was drunk on him. Drunk on Jensen Packard. And she was hopelessly dependent. Craving her next fix before this one even ended.

She moved even closer and put out her hand so her palm rested on his chest where his heartbeat thumped strong and hard. Her own pulse filled her ears with an echoing throb, pushing sensual heat through her limbs and into her erogenous zones.

He made a noise that was feline and satisfied, predatory but lazy. Almost a purr, yet a growl, too. Warning and welcoming as he drew her in with firm hands on her hips.

She gasped at the hardness of his frame, the confidence in his hands, the languorous way he nuzzled his nose against hers for one teasing second.

It was a gentle urging to tilt her head so he could capture her mouth more surely. Thoroughly.

Sensation slammed through her as he picked up right where they'd left off years ago, the rush so intense it hurt.

She had missed this — missed him so much.

Her nerve endings stung as though electrified. Her breasts grew full and tender, her lips became plump and sensitized. Her muscles ached with the effort to hold on to him when she felt weak, weak, weak.

Her throat constricted with emotion and her lungs burned for oxygen. Deep between her legs, a pulsation of need started.

All from a kiss.

From the sweet rough rake of his mouth across hers. A swipe of ownership, yes, but of enticement. Come with me. Let me show you.

He pulled her into a gentle collision that melted her on contact. So much seductive heat. Even his eyes glowed feverishly bright.

That was what really affected her—his desire.

The hardness of his muscled shoulders and chest triggered primal responses of female to male, but her delicate feminine ego exalted in the specific hardness that pressed insistently against the softness of her belly. She reveled in the color that flagged his cheekbones. In the tension that pulled at his expression, indicating a struggle with his control.

She wound her arms around his neck and gave herself up to that force. To him. She knew they couldn't go further with this —with what was happening between them. But at least she would have this. A memory.

He set light hands behind her waist but let her continue to play. Allowed her to flagrantly indulge herself—to run her hands into his hair and kiss the corners of his mouth and slide her tongue along the smooth fullness of his bottom lip. She caught that sinful piece of him between her teeth as though it was exotic fruit and lightly pulled, forcing the sexiest noise she had ever heard to emit from his throat.