Hard Rock Deceit
August placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. The heat of his palm burned into my bare skin. I shivered.
That reassuring touch turned into a caress, trailing along my collarbone. I swallowed hard. His gaze was fixated, as if mesmerized, as callused fingertips ran a trail up my throat, along my jaw. He cupped the back of my head, sifting through the dark strands.
August leaned forward. My heart jumped in my chest. Soft lips brushed my ear.
“What are you feeling right now?”
His voice was low and husky, inflaming every inch of me.
“I don’t know,” I stammered.
The hitch of my breath, the trembling of my fingers, the flush of my cheeks, told a different story.
I felt his lips curve into a teasing smile.