Heart pounding, Emma undid the clasp of her seat belt and maneuvered across the seat to get as close as she could to Marty.

She put her hand on his cheek and turned his face toward her, then leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

They were warm, his lips, but still, and for a long, dreadful moment she thought she’d done the wrong thing—totally wrecked whatever it was they had.

Or didn’t have…

Then his lips responded and he turned his body, reaching out to draw her close, to hold her in an iron clasp while his lips devoured hers, feasting on them—a starving man finding food…

Her heat matched his, burning in her body, lips opening, little moans coming from one or the other of them, maybe both, Emma didn’t know.

She only knew that this was what she’d wanted, yet hadn’t wanted, what she’d missed, but hadn’t wanted to miss.