Thrusting his hand into her hair, he tilted back her head and covered her mouth with his. He didn't ease into the kiss, didn't bother with preliminaries, but stamped his ownership in the most primitive way possible.
She instantly yielded, offering sweet surrender in the face of his determined assault. It was that unexpected capitulation that almost sent him over the edge.
With an incoherent murmur, her lips softened, parted, encouraging him to plunder within. He didn't need a second invitation. He forged a union between them, mating his tongue with hers. She trembled in his arms, clinging to him as though he alone sustained her. And he, heaven help him, worshiped her with both hands and mouth.
Not now. He reminded himself. No matter how much he wanted to.
Ultimately, it was that thought that restored his sanity.
