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 denied the attraction.
“That was not a kiss.”
“Excuse me? I know when I’ve been kissed,” she said breathily.
“This is a kiss.”
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