His lips were all over me the moment we entered his Sixth Street apartment. Hands braced along my hips, mouth pressed against the sharp line of my jaw and body pressed against mine—he snared one hand around my back and pulled me close to him before sliding his tongue into my mouth and taking a hold of the back of his head.
“God,” I gasped, tilting my head back as his lips fell to my neck.
I shivered as his flesh pressed against my jugular and his tongue grazed along the curve of my collarbone.
“You’re so hot,” Guy said, sliding a hand under my shirt, his palm flat against the middle of my back.
I leaned, took hold of his face, and traced the stubbly contours of his cheeks before pressing my mouth against his.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Guy asked when he released me.
“Don’t you?”
“Yeah. I do.”
Then we kissed, and I was lost to his passions.