He grinned and bent low to touch his mouth to mine. I groaned and turned sideways so the counter was behind me and hopped up. Curse my shortness. I couldn’t reach what I wanted, and what I wanted was more than a lip touch. I needed a boost. Once I was on the counter, I grabbed his shirt and pulled him close, threaded my fingers into his luscious hair, and kissed him hard. I wrapped my legs around his waist, so he couldn’t get away, not that he was trying—and I took. I took the kisses I wanted, the kisses I had been longing for, the kisses I had missed from him over all these years. He dug his fingers into my hips and pulled me forward, grinding himself against me. After a moment, I wasn’t doing the kissing anymore—he was. I was now the one along for the ride, kissing him back, letting him in. His lips moved over mine, thoroughly—soft, hard, licking, biting, all of it. His tongue traced my lips and demanded entrance. I opened for him.

This kiss. It was more than a kiss. We responded to each other in a language only we knew. We spoke with kisses. I missed you. I love you. I’m home.

His fingers dug into my hips, then traveled up my back. He wrapped one arm around my waist, fingers trailing up the hem of my shirt while his other hand glided up my back to caress my cheek. He wound my curls around his hand and took control. I surrendered. Tilting my head back, he positioned me where he liked, then slanted his mouth over mine to deepen our kiss.

Luke had always known how to touch me. He knew what I liked, what would drive me crazy. My heart pounded like it hadn’t in years. It beat for him. He was home, and I was his. I unbuttoned his shirt and spread it apart, so I could get to his skin, the warm planes of his broad chest.

I was mindless with want, with nostalgia wrapped in lust, with love wrapped in rediscovery. He pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it to the side. I whimpered as he bent to my breast and kissed me over the lace of my bra. I felt the vibration of his groan on my skin along with the tickle from his beard and the warmth of his palms on my back. The thought of not having him near, not being able to touch him, made me crazy, and I pulled his face to mine for more kisses. He touched me all the way to my soul, filling my heart so full it was about to beat out of my chest and into his. I wanted this, him, more than anything. This kiss was mind melting, urgent, claiming. Then he stopped.