After Nolan left my apartment, I cleaned up the dishes and went to bed. As I lay there in my room, memories of his firm lips on mine had my body overheating and sensitive to the touch. How had he known? I’d never said I liked men—and women, occasionally—to anyone, though it wasn’t that I cared about it being out in the open. I simply never talked about it. Only Dimitry knew.
It was my first lip-lock ever, at the ripe old age of thirty-eight. Even with all the bodies I’d f****d, tender moments had never been a part of the exchange. The other person provided the hole, I used it until I got off, and then it was over.
But this tasting…Nolan’s lips had been soft and supple. He’d taken his time, cradling my head in his huge hands and angling for the perfect melding. I’d gasped at the touch of
