You teased her, made her... and then just let go?
What kind of twisted game is this?
Julian Fairchild kissed her lips, didn't say a word, yet the mirth in his eyes was impossible to conceal.
"Oh, you." Maeve Lane nudged him, the blush on her face hadn't completely faded. She looked less angry and more shy.
"So you can feel... what it's like to be hot-headed." Julian Fairchild gently licked her earlobe; his voice seductive like a Demon King.
Maeve Lane drew her hand back from hugging him, dryly said, "I'm not."
The man held her close, chuckled, "I know your body better than you do."
Maeve Lane: "..."
"Well, how does it feel, uncomfortable?"
How was she supposed to answer that.
Seeing her frown, Julian Fairchild softened, leaned over and captured her lips, his tongue delving deep; a kiss that started gentle soon grew forceful.
Maeve Lane felt the man's passion, but she still retained some sense. As he breathed, she swiftly tugged the blanket, wrapping herself tightly.
