Wide-eyed, Hannah looked up at him. He reached out as if in a dream, tucked his fingers underneath her chin, and angled her mouth up to accept his. He brushed his lips softly against hers, wondering if she’d fight him. Her eyelids drifted closed and he let himself taste her. Gently, he kissed her, fighting the urge to push and plunder. She crept her hands up his body and flattened her palms against his chest, resting them there for a second before she firmly pushed him away.
As her heavily fringed lids fluttered open, she said, “I don’t know you. You have no right to kiss me.”
Cocking his head to the side, he wondered if she was more upset that he’d kissed her, or that he’d stopped. From the way her chest hitched with every breath, he’d bet his paycheck on the latter. Still, she fought the attraction.
“That was not a kiss.”
“Excuse me? I know when I’ve been kissed,” she said breathily.
“This is a kiss.”