With her back against the side of the train, he raised her high until her knees hooked over his shoulders. He gripped her thighs, the petal-soft texture of her skin making him smile. He’d spent many nights indulging in the taste and feel of her skin.
And he’d spend tonight worshiping her again, letting his lips and touch tell her how much he missed her, doing what he hadn’t been able to do for nearly three weeks.
Tilting his head back, he watched her bend close until her nose touched his. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered.
She smiled, fingers drifting over his throat. “I know,” she murmured. “Show me how much.”
(© 2012 Mirriam Smyth)
(Photo Courtesy of Widescreen Art Black & Red & Wite)
