Not since she’d shown up at his place and he’d whisked her off to bed after she’d cooked him dinner. Everything inside her tightened in remembrance of his fevered kisses. His reverent touches. How marvelous it felt to have his solid body beneath hers. His damp skin sliding against hers. The stretch and burn as their bodies connected so intimately. And how that discomfort had changed into pleasure as he taught her to trust her instincts on how to move with him. Then Carson had been so sweet, yet fiercely possessive. The way he put his hands on her body as if every inch of flesh now belonged to him. The whispers in her ear that sounded like promises, even when her head had spun so much she couldn’t process the words, just the intensity behind them. After she’d left and had time to reflect that she’d had sex with him three days in a row, she expected guilt to weigh on her, because she’d been raised to believe that sex was to be saved for marriage.
