Chapter 37 Tilda
Tilda
He pulls me closer.
Impossibly closer.
Our bodies are flush.
My head is tipped all the way back. I’m on the tip of my toes. And my hands have moved to his lower back, under his shirt, just like his hand is on me.
It’s reckless.
All of this is reckless.
I don’t actually know this man.
But my body recognizes him.
His energy.
His need.
His… desire.
The pressure on my forehead disappears as he releases his hold on my hat.
I feel the loss.
And without meaning to, a sound—something needy—leaves my chest.
The missing hand smacks down against my ass.
I gasp.
He tilts his head, shoving more of his tongue into my mouth.
His hand doesn’t lift away. It stays on my ass cheek, squeezing, fingers digging into my soft flesh.
And I do the only thing I can.