“His lips are familiar. I know the shape of them, know how to make mine fit against them. His taste is familiar too. For all the illusions and colors and sweet smells... he has always tasted like skin. His breaths are shallow. I'm holding his life against my tongue, between my rows of teeth. He's offering it up.”

“Jake's mouth found mine, his lips molding hot and soft to my own. His tongue tentatively tested the seal of my lips; I parted them and he pushed inside. It was startlingly sweet and achingly familiar, like finding harbor.”

“...all my brain could think about was pushing my lips against hers. I wanted to taste them, know how their softness felt against mine...”

“Then his mouth lowered in a hard, claiming kiss. A groan parted my lips and his tongue snaked between them to stroke mine with sensual dominance. He tasted like sin made into wine: dark, heady, and impossible to resist.”

“He leaned forward to rub his lips against her collarbone, up her throat, his lips soft, dry, his stubble adding just enough roughness to arouse. She inclined her head, offering, inviting, pleading. He gripped the back of her thighs, pulling her closer, his hands on her ass as he thrust into her, meeting her rhythm, finding their rhythm, the one they’d always been so good at. His hands were familiar on her skin, knew just where to touch. The cadence of his breathing, the taste of his mouth, all brought back how good they’d been together.”

“I need to know that you will be a good girl and not scream. Do you promise?” “I promise,” I said gritting my teeth, arching my back. I heard him laugh quietly as he moved his face back to mine. His mouth was on mine; I could taste the salty sweetness of myself on his lips…”