“No one’s around.”

I’d have to take his word for it because his lips didn’t leave mine long enough to look around. His tongue curled around mine, and I was shaking against him. My hands, my arms, my legs—all of them trembling and weak with desire. I wound my hands together at his neck, afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep them up if I didn’t.

He pulled back to release a breath, and I tasted him on the air. He kissed me again, softly, teasing and nipping at my swollen lips. He hummed, and I felt the vibrations slink their way beneath my skin. His hands sank into my hair, like fingers sinking into the sand, into my soul. He rested his forehead against mine, and gave a chagrined smile.

“Okay, so there might be people around. But in my defense, I was too preoccupied to really see them.”

I probably should have been embarrassed. But in truth, I didn’t even care enough to look around and find the, no doubt, scandalized family who’d witnessed our reunion.

Gradually, he backed away until my swing lowered back into place. My legs were still shaking when I stood in front of him. Immediately, he reached out to touch me again, his hand curling around my neck and tilting my head back.

His gaze tore through me just like the first night we’d met. I wanted nothing more than to take him back to my apartment and continue our reunion.

I said, “Let’s go home.”

He kissed me again with the same detail, the same intricacy I saw in his sketches. Fire raged everywhere our skin met, and he said, “I’m already there.”

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