One of Seb’s hands lightninged up her back and tangled in her hair; he tipped her head back, and she realized again just how large he was. He surrounded her on almost every side. The new angle had her mouth slipping open, and Seb made a noise, tore his face to one side to breathe and came back to her. He dropped a gruff kiss to her bottom lip, pulled back and did it again. When he slouched, lifted her and landed his lips on hers, his tongue swept into her mouth.

Basically, Via attempted to climb the mountain of his body. She wanted the mountaintop. She wanted the crisp, terrifying summit. She thanked God that her dress had a slit up the side because it allowed her to hitch one of her flexible legs over his hip.

She was dizzy and could only think about tracing her tongue along his, which was why she was startled when her back was firmly pressed into a brick wall.

Her eyes fluttered open and she realized that he was caging her in, pressing her back and... This. Yes, one of his hands had reached back and touched at the strap of her high heel that was currently pressed into his ass. His hand traced up her calf and to her thigh then doubled back to the soft skin at the back of her knee.

Via gasped into his mouth as his fingers pressed into the hollow of her knee. He made a sound in response, and his hand slid higher up her thigh.

Then, suddenly, Seb was unhanding her and taking four quick steps away from her. Via sagged back against the wall.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pacing past her once, twice.

And then he was back. One hand in her hair and the other reaching down to toss her leg over his hip again. She was breathing his air, swallowing his low, frustrated noises.

She stroked her tongue against his and straight-up moaned when his hand pushed a few inches farther and stroked over the smooth, naked curve of her ass. His hand kept going until he hit her hip and apparently found what he was looking for. The delicate line of her G-string. He was saying something directly into her mouth, but either it wasn’t English or Via’s brain had better things to do. His fingers spread across her hip, tangling in her underwear.

Her fingers ached and she realized it was because she was white-knuckling the fabric of his coat.

This.

His mouth was hot and endless and everything she’d never known existed. It struck her like a slap in the face; she’d been surviving on Easy Mac when all along there’d been filet mignon. She sucked at his bottom lip, bruised it with her tongue. She could feel the rough scrape of his stubble just at the border of his lips, and it enflamed her. It was like he was scraping her clean with his roughness.

She clamped teeth down, and he made the noise a lion makes in the night when he spots prey. That hand of his was farther up her dress, and he pinned her to the wall with his hips.