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Tara shivered. There was something about Peter McClain that was touching her on a whole new level, and it didn’t matter what in him made her feel like being in a cocoon of happiness, love, and hate mixed all together. Her fingers tangled with his, and just like that her lips found his, whispering, “Peace.”
Peter took a sharp breath, and his body tensed as a tightly pulled string. Her lips were seeking answers, touching his; her hands found his hair and pulled him closer. Tara’s head was spinning. His scent! The smell of spices, forest, and spring morning was making her dizzy. She had to breathe. He was sucking the oxygen out of her lungs. Peter’s body relaxed a moment later in her hands, every fiber responding to the touch. Everything around them froze, ice-cold silence, and they both were flames, blazing with each second. Their bodies were like the two parts of a complex mechanism, and one could almost hear the click when they fit together. His touch was everywhere, burning its way to every cell of her skin. His hands barely touched her face, gentle as a feather.
“Tara . . .” A throaty sound, seeped with passion and then . . . “Tara,” he persisted.
All she managed to utter was a “Shush!” Something deeply buried inside her was threatening to erupt and wipe out the whole world, leaving only the two of them and a cup of hot cappuccino as witnesses. Her hands found his bare chest; the skin was hot like lava, and his heart was beating uncontrollably. Her touch tore a moan from his throat and he pulled her closer. Tara got caught in a maelstrom. His hands and lips became more insistent, eager, desperately seeking more of her sweetness. Tara found strength and opened her eyes, staring into his. They were no longer two blue lakes, but a deep ink, darkened like a thunder sky. And in that moment, she surrendered to him.
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