It was so unbearable that she frantically tore at her clothes.
The sight was pure temptation.
Tristan Sterling fought back the turmoil in his heart. He wrapped her tightly in his suit jacket, lifted her in his arms, and got out of the car.
He strode quickly toward the front door.
He opened the door and went inside.
Holly Sinclair, like a restless kitten, nuzzled her scorching face into the crook of his neck.
She ignited a wicked fire within him.
But she wasn't satisfied. Her fiery lips traveled up his neck until they found his.
His lips were slightly cool.
She was like a fish stranded in the desert that had suddenly found water, and she kissed him with desperate urgency.
Tristan Sterling could bear it no longer.
He went upstairs and into the bedroom.
He carried her as they both tumbled onto the soft, large bed.
A wildfire ignited, and it was impossible to contain.
…
Holly Sinclair lost count of how many times she cried.
