“No! Not help from you, anyway! Your family hates mine, Jericho.”
When she used his name, Jericho’s chest tightened and his nerves sprang to life. Never before had his name sounded so intimate. So personal. So sensual.
“I won’t be run out of town.”
“I’m not running you out of town.”
“Right! What other reason could you possibly have for wanting me to go?”
Knowing she wouldn’t believe him if he put this into words, and officially at his frustration limit, Jericho grabbed her shoulders, yanked her to him and kissed her. He kissed her deeply, instantly falling into the act as if he were made to kiss her. He devoured her mouth, tasting her, enjoying her—and she responded. As if she were made to kiss him.