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She placed her hands on his shoulders and lowered her mouth to meet his. He tilted his head back to welcome her touch. As soon as her lips brushed his, the sweetest sensation spread through her. His kiss tasted like wine and destiny, like a dream she'd never quite allowed herself to have.
He stroked her back with a kind of slow appreciation. He was so tactile, so reverent. The way he savored the contours of her form made her feel beautiful in a way she wasn't used to. It was a heady experience. Is this what most women felt when men made love to them? Treasured and cherished? There was nothing casual in Rollo's touch. It was intent, focused, sensual.
And it sent deep tremors shuddering through her body.
"Take off your sweater," he whispered.
"Wait." She sniffed the air.
"Wait?" He
