His mouth crashes into mine and it's nothing like before.
This is heat, pure, desperate heat.
His tongue pushes past my lips and I taste him, whiskey and want and something that makes my brain go hazy, I wrap my hands around his shoulders and pull him closer.
He makes a sound against my mouth, half-growl, half-groan, and then his hands are everywhere. In my hair, on my throat, gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks I'll feel tomorrow.
"Bael," I gasp between kisses.
"Shut up." He bites my lower lip hard enough to sting. "I don't want to hear you talk. I just need..."
He doesn't finish, he just yanks at my shirt, buttons scattering across the floor.
The cool air hits my overheated skin and I arch into him, desperate for contact, for pressure, for anything.
"Christ, you're burning up." His hands slide over my chest, thumbs brushing over my nipples, and the sensation makes me cry out.
Everything is too much, too sensitive, the heat has my nerve endings screaming.
