Reason to Love
He arched down, grabbing my face between his callous palms, and a weird jolt of energy pulsed through me. Instead of pushing him away, strangely, the only thing I could think of was how long it’d been since I felt a man’s hands on my skin. His full focus was on me, the attention sending little tremors of awareness through me, as we stared at each other, speechless, our faces mere inches apart.
Move, Reason. Just fucking go.
My mind and body staged a mutiny by refusing to cooperate, as if daring the shifter to make another move. He did by pressing his lips against mine.
Reaching up, I slapped my hands against his wide shoulders with every intention of shoving him away. Instead, my fingers gripped him tight, pulling him closer. My lips parted before he sucked my tongue into his mouth.
Oh, baby Jesus. Why does he taste like my three favorite things—coffee, mint, and cinnamon?