Vivienne's back was pressed against the dining table, her breath caught in her throat, as André kissed her like a starving man who had found dessert after a lifetime of famine. His mouth was desperate, hot, bruising, and all she could think in between gasps was that this bastard must have truly lost his mind.
Didn't he already have me for breakfast? Now dinner too? Can't I eat my roasted duck in peace without being roasted myself? At this point he's not kissing me. He's trying to kill me. What type of shit is this?
But, like always, her mouth betrayed her. While her brain screamed curses and insults, her lips opened up, kissing him back with a hunger that matched his. It was always like this with him. Her head said no, her lips said yes, and her body screamed fuck me now.
When he finally pulled back, both of them were breathless. His chest rose and fell against hers, and his eyes burned into her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.
