For some reason, Avery could feel that he wasn't kissing her with passion, or desire, not even lust, but with anger. For what though? She pushed against his hard chest to escape him, but she might as well be pushing against a wall.
"Don't fucking push me away," he said through gritted teeth, his fingers weaving into her soft hair and pulling her closer to himself. "Call me Love," he ordered.
She opened her mouth with a retort in mind but he used the opportunity to slide his tongue inside. And then she was lost to wetness and heat, the overwhelming fever writing and pulsing in her veins. She rose to her toes to give him full access; to fit her body against his and panted into his mouth, fisting handfuls of his t-shirt to pull him closer.
