...They stared at each other, the moving light of the television casting them into light and shadow. The air was suddenly charged, heavy. His heart thudded heavily in his chest, his ears rang and his dick was hard as granite. He lifted one hand and touched her bottom lip with two fingertips.

Her head tilted, eyes wide and shining, and her lips parted in invitation, whether conscious or unconscious, that he couldn’t resist any more than he could resist breathing. His fingers stroked over the lush lower lip, pushing it down a little so her mouth opened more. He leaned closer.

She didn’t move away. She held his gaze, the awareness and heat in her eyes matching his own. He briefly closed his eyes. This wasn’t planned, but he couldn’t say he didn’t want it to happen. He wanted it. So. Fucking. Much.

Guilt stabbed through him. Was he repeating his past mistakes, hurting women he cared about? He’d come here for closure, atonement…not to screw things up worse. He was leaving tomorrow.

Then she was in his arms, and they both gasped at the shock of pleasure as their bodies touched, and guilt lost out to the overwhelming sweetness of her in his arms. She was so small he could pull her right onto his lap, crushing her in his arms. She seemed even tinier than he remembered.

He took her mouth like he’d been longing to since the moment he’d seen her. That full mouth made for kissing…and other things at which she was very, very good. God, those kinds of memories just shot his temperature up even higher. He plied her with hot, urgent, demanding kisses, opening her mouth, seeking her velvety tongue, fire streaking through his veins.

Her tongue met his with eagerness and she tasted sweetly of chamomile tea and Ainslie. God, he loved the taste of her. He stroked deeply in her mouth, sucked on her tongue and felt her open more for him. Her hands clutched his upper arms and he shifted her over him, pushing her back into the cushions of the couch. Then her arms wound around his neck and her fingers were in his hair, tugging, driving him insane with lust.

He slid one hand down her back to her bottom, filling his palm with her firm flesh, pulling her closer. The other hand went to her breast, and he squeezed her softness, almost clutching her a little desperately. He felt her indrawn breath against his mouth and gentled his touch.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered. “You feel so good.” He rubbed his palm over her tight nipple, almost out of his mind with desire.

Need stabbed into him, into his already tight testicles, flames licking over him. He moved to kiss her again, but she drew back, staring at him.

No, don’t do it. Please don’t start thinking, he begged her in his mind, his brain fogged with an urgent craving for her. His cock pulsed and throbbed under the blanket now tangled around his hips and legs.

“Griff,” she whispered, eyes full of hunger and confusion. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know.” He drew a shaky breath and his body clenched with tight restraint. “I know we shouldn’t. But I can’t seem to stop. I can’t resist you.”

Her eyes drifted shut and she swallowed. He bent his head and touched his mouth to her throat, to the pulse beating there like butterfly wings. He sucked softly at her skin, trying to slow down, to control himself so he could entice her, seduce her. He’d never forced any woman, but especially not Ainslie who was so gentle and special, and he wasn’t about to start now, despite the lust raging in him.