Tolerable (Modern Jane #2)

12

She certainly did not hate him. —Pride it’s deliberate and demanding. Liam Darcy is kissing me, and I am kissing him. And I never want to stop. He moves one hand to my hair, and the other splays on my back. My hand rests on his cheek, which is delightfully stubbly. We begin the kiss frantic but soon slow down, savoring each other. He plants small kisses along my jawline and down my neck, nibbling my bare shoulders as I let out happy sighs. This is glorious, this is bliss, this is...

“Ahem!” A loud throat clearing jolts me back to reality. Colin Funkhauser stands a few paces off, holding two champagne flutes and raging with righteous indignation.

“Lettie Benson! How dare you!”