Smoke And Ashes. Danica Winters
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wanted this. He wanted her.
He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and carry her to his bed. He wanted to wake up covered in her scent, to lick her flavor off his lips. Her kiss moved lower. Her tongue traced the neckline of his shirt. Her hands moved up his chest.
“Heather...” he moaned. “I want you...”
Before he could say another word, her lips met his. She tasted sweet, like warm berries right off the vine. How could a woman taste so good?
He wrapped his arms around her as he relished their kiss. He could do this forever...hold her forever...be with her forever.
The scent of sweetened alcohol wafted from her. Kevin pulled back. Those lips, those pink, full lips weren’t berry flavored—they tasted of margarita.
If she had been sober and come to him willingly and openly, it would have been hard for him to say no, but as it was, with her judgment skewed and muted by booze, there was only one choice.
“Heather...” He unwrapped his arms from around her body. “We can’t do this. You can sleep here. You can have my bed. But tonight... This can’t happen.”
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