“God, you’re so beautiful,” Tate murmured. Burying his face in her hair, he inhaled deeply. “You always smell so good.”
Slowly, Piper leaned back and turned her head to face him. When she met his gaze, she felt the intense heat reflected in his eyes zip through her body to settle between her thighs.
“You’re drunk,” she told him, unwilling to believe anything he said in his current state, but unable to deny how good his words made her feel.
Moving his hands up to cradle her face between his heated palms, Tate lowered his head until his lips hovered over hers. Her heart raced out of control and the focus of her world funneled into a narrow scope in which only she and Tate existed. She leaned into him, her body hungry for his touch, his kiss, his everything. As his breath mingled with hers, the bitter smell of alcohol hit her in the nose, bringing her back to reality.
Tate’s mind was clouded and he was in no position to make decisions. Piper had been dreaming of this moment since their brief encounter in the women’s bathroom, but if she kissed him now, she would be taking advantage of the situation. She had a feeling that Tate didn’t give out kisses lightly—she hadn’t seen him kiss any woman since, though she couldn’t say what he did in the privacy of a public bathroom. Call her crazy, but if he ever decided to kiss her again, she wanted it to mean something, and she wanted him to remember it in the morning.
Shaking her head, Piper tried to pull away, but Tate tightened his hold, drawing her closer and tilting her face up to meet his. In a blink, his mouth was on hers, his lips moving in a sensual dance that ignited a fire deep inside her.
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