Meredith.
I swallowed, my hands roaming across the solid planes of his shoulders and chest, feeling the strength coiled right there.
"I thought about you, too," I whispered. "Every night, I craved this."
His lips curved against my skin, the faintest smile before he claimed my mouth again, hungrier now.
Then he slid his hands along my waist, caressing, grounding, sending warmth racing through me.
He touched me as if memorizing every line, every curve—as if I were both his anchor and his most sacred treasure.
Despite the intensity, there was gentleness woven through his movements.
His fingertips lingered, his kisses slowed at times, making me feel cherished, not just desired.
But just when I thought he was finally going to break the kiss, he deepened it until I could hardly breathe, and I didn't want him to stop either.
Draven's lips moved against mine with a hunger that left me dizzy, his hand sliding up my thigh, his palm warm through the fabric of my dress.
