His lips are on mine. Not a brush of a kiss this time, but a proper, I-want-you-kiss that has my heart skipping and longing pulling at my belly.
"Iris," he murmurs, barely breaking the kiss.
He runs his palm down my back and kisses me again. It's a lazy kiss that's full of promises; promises of what's to come.
Anticipation tugs at me, a little impatience too, but we are in no rush. We have nowhere to be and nothing to do except each other.
"I'll never get enough of you," he says, kissing across to my ear. "Never, in all of time."
I curl my arm around his neck and push close, my sensitive nipples pressing against his body through the material of our clothing.
He drags me closer still and I wonder if he'll haul me into his strong arms and carry me up the staircase to the bedroom.
His attention is fixed on my breasts. He caresses them, tweaking at my nipples. I am breathing faster now, my body on high alert. I want every touch, every kiss, everything he can offer me.
