He kisses me slowly, purposefully, all his attention on me, on our lips gliding against each other. I have the vague thought that this probably isn’t a great idea, but that’s drowned out by the fizzy sensation rising in my chest. The lush softness of his mouth, the gravelly hum he makes as I slip my hand into his thick, wavy hair. Involuntarily, I shift closer, trailing my other hand down his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles; there’s something fascinating about that controlled strength. Knowing that he could take what he wants but is choosing to follow my lead.

Then his lips part, and his tongue meets mine, and it’s like the first bite of the most delicious dessert—I am suddenly ravenous.

I pull myself even closer, deepening the kiss, my hands raking through his hair. My teeth catch on his lower lip, and a soft groan rumbles in his throat, sending sparks of pure lust straight through my core. His hand in my hair curls into a fist, a tight knot that’s right on the edge between pleasure and pain, as he kisses me with an intensity that steals my breath. He’s hungry and urgent, and I’m desperate and greedy. I’m practically climbing into his lap as he kisses my jaw and my neck, his stubble rasping against my skin, making me moan in a way that’s maybe a little embarrassing, but I’m too far gone to care.

Soon I’m straddling him, and he’s running his hands down my body like he’s claiming everything he touches: my back, my waist, sliding down to my butt and pulling me against him. I gasp at the hard press of him between my legs.

Without thinking, I lean back against the cool sand, pulling him down with me; he follows, continuing to kiss me, his hand sliding up my rib cage, thumb grazing my breast. Another moan slips out of my mouth. I have never in my life felt such unexpected, uncontrollable desire for another human being.

Needing him closer, I tug him over me, parting my legs so he can wedge his thigh between them. The weight of him is overwhelming in the best way; I’ve never been under a man this big—he’s bracing himself with one forearm against the sand, trying to be careful with me. I rock against him, and he seems to know exactly what I’m after, pressing his thigh right where I want it. The friction…it’s almost too much. My hands slide under his shirt and up his back, his skin hot against my palms. I bury my face in his neck and inhale; he smells divine. And I want his shirt off.