Then she turned to face him. "How about I remind you," she said, her voice dropping to a purr, "why you picked me… why you made me yours."
Rick's hands found Alia's waist as she stepped into him, her lips brushing over his in featherlight temptation. Her fingers slid up his chest, curling at his collar before she leaned in.
"Tell me you missed me," she whispered.
"I did," he said, barely audible.
Her lips met his again—hungrier this time. Their mouths moved in sync, and before he could think, she was backing him toward the bed, her kiss deepening with every step. His fingers tangled in her hair as her body pressed flush against his, heat building in waves between them.
They reached the bed, and he barely had a second to breathe before she pushed him down onto it. She climbed over him, straddling his lap as her fingers moved to his buttons.
"You've always looked good in black," she murmured, undoing his shirt, one button at a time. "But you look even better out of it."
