Chapter 4
Before I had to leave Mark’s condo to meet Mother the next morning, I curled my hand around his neck, drew his head down, and kissed him one last time. At six foot three, he was five inches taller, but that never proved to be a problem. Our lips had no trouble meeting.
Prior to having Mark in my life, I’d always felt that kissing was pleasurable but overrated. He was the one who said I should be kissed long and often, and by someone who knew how. And that certainly was Mark. His kisses could be unbelievably hot; they could be surprisingly tender—although this was something I’d hesitate to tell the former senior special agent of the Washington Bureau of Intelligence and Security; there were times when they were almost desperate; but they never failed to make me want more.
Howev
