The Sheriff. Angi Morgan
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are your hands still around me?”
Kissing her was destined as soon as she’d told him they’d never get along. “What’s about to happen probably shouldn’t. But you won’t find me apologizing for it later.”
“You better not, Pete. Bad first kissers don’t get a second chance.”
He liked her. A lot. Too much. Too fast.
He leaned his lips to touch hers for the first time. Soft and wet, they parted just enough to encourage him. His hands spread up her back, noticing the firm muscles.
There wasn’t anything between them now except a thin layer of cotton. He stopped himself from getting the shirt out of his way. This was their first kiss but sure didn’t feel like it.
Their lips slid together, teasing, seeming to know their way without conscious effort. A perfect fit? Practiced. Confident.
He wanted his hands to wander but forced them to stay put. Andrea’s arms encircled his neck, shifting her body next to his. Her tennis shoes snuggled next to his size-thirteen feet. That one layer kept him both sane and drove him crazy at the same time.
He wanted it off. Wanted her bare skin under his flesh. Wanted to forget exactly where they were and remember everything much too late.
The attraction turned to mutual pure hunger and he liked her even more.
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