James Black thought, perhaps, just as Jane Sampson said, he didn't know when it started, but he had become enchanted by kissing her.
He had thought about restraint, so he took two steps back in time.
But her gaze, a sentence spoken with a touch of petulance, still shattered the self-control he took pride in, crumbling into nothing. Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.
That was what every cell in James Black's body was clamoring at that moment.
And now, as he kissed her, James Black could feel his greedy ambition, he began to want more, no longer satisfied with just kisses.
He wanted to meld her into his body, into his very blood and bone.
Jane Sampson was startled by James Black's kiss; his breath on her neck was scorching and rapid.
He held her tightly against him, pressing, and she could feel the hand on her lower back gripping tighter.
