Molly burst into flames, then exploded, and that was only a hint of the kind of heat that Constantine’s mouth on hers generated.

It was only the start.

Her hands came up of their own accord, fluttering near his shoulders when she had never fluttered a day in her life. He was so big all around her when she was used to towering over most men. His mouth was so hot. And he angled his jaw as his tongue swept hers, making her shiver out as well as in.

His kiss was slick, wicked and insidious, and almost unbearably good.

He kissed the way he did everything. Lazy, reckless and, underneath it all, a dark edge of that same danger she really should have heeded.

She could taste him. Smell him. His tongue was a temptation, his sensual mouth a seduction, and she could hardly make sense of all the sensations that stormed in her.

Molly was lost.