The kiss was nothing like David's perfunctory pecks. This was desperate, hungry, years of suppressed want exploding between us. His tongue had swept into my mouth and I'd remembered—god, I'd remembered what kissing was supposed to feel like when both people were actually present.

His hands had fisted in my hair while mine had clutched at his suit jacket, and when he'd backed me against the door, pressing his body against mine, I'd felt his erection hard and insistent against my stomach.

Already harder than David ever got.

"I've missed you," he'd groaned against my mouth. "Fuck, Nat, I've missed you so much."

"Show me," I'd demanded, my hands going...