Oh, to kiss María José…
Her mouth was soft and urgent. Desperate. Tasting of tears and need and something that tasted a lot like finally. She kissed me like I was the only safe place in a world on fire.
I deepened the kiss, groaning low in my throat as her fingers dug into the fabric of my shirt. My blood was molten now, thick with desire, and my head swam.
I'd kissed María José before, sure. But never like this. Never with this hunger. This surrender. This ache to know every part of her, not just her soul but her body: every curve, and every tremble.
She arched into me when I traced kisses down her jaw, across the hollow of her throat. She gave a sharp intake of breath, her body melting into mine, and her nails dragged lightly along the back of my neck. I hissed in response, lips finding the slope of her collarbone.
I needed her to know she was wanted. Needed. Loved.
