Jennifer Greene - Rock Solid

He took her mouth and then again, tasting her, sampling her, then coming back for the whole feast. Tongues touched tongues, then tangled. He swooped her closer, half lifting her, not trying to be crude, not wanting to be, but if he couldn’t feel her breasts and pelvis layered intimately against him, he wasn’t positive he’d managed to survive another second.

Those small, slim hands suddenly willingly slid around his neck. Another sigh whispered from her throat, caught between kisses, trapped between kisses. She was still wearing the leather climbing harness, which in no way inhibited movement but only protected her from danger. Only they weren’t climbing now, and he had no harness to protect himself, not when she surged up on tiptoe and robbed him of a kiss that he wasn’t necessarily planning to give away. She could convince a saint to take up sin. And oh, man.

She was good.

Sunlight speared in the middle of the forest, washing them in that magic light. He didn’t give a damn. His work—forget that, too. The two clients finished their morning exercise, the lodge, the bills, his missing sister, Hannah—he didn’t care about any of it. When he finally yanked his head up to haul in some air, he wasn’t sure where he’d just been—where they’d just been—but it sure as hell wasn’t his Silver Mountain lodge in Idaho.

He was going to worry about that kiss. A lot.

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