Matt
I took her mouth in a kiss that bordered on savage. My hands slapped the wall by her head in a meager attempt not to touch. I was at my breaking point. Two years. Two years of celibacy, and one kiss was blasting that all to hell.
Pressing closer, I pinned her in place, every inch of us colliding. She tasted like merlot and sin. Salvation. Her fingers fisted in my hair, tugging, and I groaned at the slight lick of pain. Teeth clashed. Tongues warred. Air was scarce. Her hips thrust forward, and scratch that. Air was nonexistent.
She broke our kiss long enough to shove my shirt over my head and came right back at me, fingers working my jeans while her mouth sent me straight to my death. She had my pants over my hips before a semblance of oh-shit hit me.
"Jenny-"
"Shut up."
Good plan.