Tatiana March

“Nudging her legs apart with one knee, he poised himself above her. “Do you want it fierce and powerful?” he asked in a husky tone.She nodded.He pushed inside her in one swift thrust and waited for her to react, to welcome him. Her legs rose to coil around his hips. She clung to his shoulders. Her body tightened, holding him in, wanting him.”

“How in hell had a casual embrace turned into an all-consuming kiss?Edgy and rattled, Joaquin stalked back to his cantina, The Watering Hole. Reluctantly, he accepted it had been one of those moments his mother used to call earthquake moments—they were not significant events, but deep down you knew that the repercussions could alter the course of your life.”

“Slowly, Joaquin leaned in, drawn closer to her against his will. Pursing his lips, he breathed warm air across her cheeks, like animals do when they learn each other’s scent, learn to trust. “Easy now,” he whispered in between the soft puffs of air. “Let go of the fear.”“I can’t,” she said, in a little broken voice that clenched at his heart.“Yes you can.” Joaquin let his lips touch her skin, the merest hint of a contact. She made a tiny sound of alarm, a cross between a sob and a cry. He brushed his mouth against hers. A shudder shook her body, but she pressed into him, seeking his shelter. Keeping his hands braced to the timber, he deepened the kiss. His mouth slanted over hers, bolder now.Her hands rose between them and fisted into his shirt.”