“I should kiss you, that would shut you up.”
“Yeah,” Matt said. “You should kiss me.”
“Fine.” Amy shoved him up against a tree with one hell of a kiss. She found herself melting into him, like maybe there was no line drawn in the sand between him and her, nothing but this incredible pleasure, pleasure she couldn’t remember ever getting out of a simple kiss before. Matt’s arms held her close, and the scent of him, clean, warm male, was making her heart pound. Her head was overrun with wicked thoughts involving her tongue and every inch of his body.
“So,” she said. “It worked. You’re quiet now.”
“Amy.” His voice was thrillingly quiet and gruff, running his lips along her jaw. “Don’t promise what you don’t want to deliver.”
Turning her head, she cupped his face and pulled it closer. Matt let out a sound and sucked hungrily on her bottom lip, like he was a starving man and she was his next meal. And while his mouth and tongue were very busy, so were his hands, gripping her hips, grinding her into him.
“I rarely make a promise,” Amy whispered. “But when I do, I deliver . . . ”