Burn for You: Outback Skies, Book 2
himself that which he’d denied himself for close to five years—another living being’s warmth.
    “Evan…” Her soft voice caressed his senses.
    Opening his eyes, he pulled away from her hand and turned to her. “Goodnight, Jenna.”
    Without a word, she stepped over the threshold. Entered his home.
    Cupped his face in both her hands and brushed her lips to his.

Chapter Four
    She couldn’t let him shut her out.
    It had nothing to do with the secret desire she’d harboured for him all those years ago. That desire seemed like a shallow high school crush compared to how she felt for him now.
    That desire—a superficial attraction to his good looks and swagger—shamed her. Embarrassed her.
    That desire didn’t move her to enter his house and kiss him.
    The raw ache churning in her very soul, that’s what propelled her.
    The unquestionable necessity to show him he wasn’t the failure he believed himself to be.
    The undeniable need to heal the wounds in his heart.
    She cupped his face in her hands, the skin beneath her left palm healthy and dusted with stubble, the skin beneath her right knotted and containing a world of pain, and let him feel everything she felt for him in the tender touch of her lips to his.
    His shaky inhalation, coupled with his light grip of her wrists as he pulled from the kiss, sent a sharp pang of torment through her.
    “Jenna,” he murmured, shaking his head, eyes closed. “You don’t want this. You don’t want me. I’m not who I used to be. I’m not that guy anymore, the one you first meet on the beach.”
    She drew closer to him. Close enough their bellies touched.
    “I’m not kissing that guy, Evan. I’m kissing this new guy I only just met yesterday. I like him more, even if he doesn’t think it’s possible.”
    He drew in another breath, this one not as shaky and so much deeper. His gaze searched hers. His fingers circled her wrists, grip loose.
    “It’s not…” He shook his head. “I can’t…”
    Before he could say anything else, she brushed her lips to his again.
    The urge to deepen the kiss flooded her body in a powerful wave of heat and need. To take possession of his mouth in the way he had hers back on the helipad. She could. He wouldn’t deny her. His breath burst from his nostrils in ragged exhalations, fanning her top lip.
    She could feel the potent desire and need in him in the way he still held her wrists, in the way his stomach hitched as their breaths mingled. In the way his groin nudged hers with an undeniable spasm as she touched the tip of her tongue to his bottom lip.
    She could seek out his tongue with hers and he would surrender to her.
    But she needed him to surrender to himself.
    He had to accept her desire for him. He had to believe in it.
    And yet his lips remained unresponsive.
    Dismay shot through her. A churning weight knotted in her belly. She drew back slightly, preparing herself for the empty loss of his lips on hers.
    Preparing herself to walk away from him.
    His grip on her wrists tightened. Grew painful.
    And then, with a low, raw groan, he hauled her to his body and plundered her mouth with his tongue.
    She moaned into the possession, instantly on fire with an elemental desire beyond any she’d experienced. This kiss was powerful, demanding, hungry, desperate, frustrated, ravenous and sorrowful all at once.
    It undid her.
    Just a kiss.
    She broke her wrists free of his hands and cupped his face for fear he’d tear away from her.
    He didn’t. He deepened the kiss even as he captured her right hand, removed it from his jaw and yanked it behind her back.
    He ground his cock to the curve of her sex. It was hard and thick and impossible to ignore.
    She didn’t want to ignore it. She wanted to touch it. Feel it. Impale herself on it.
    Rolling her hips, she stroked its turgid jeans-trapped length with her soft flesh, cursing their items of clothing separating skin-to-skin contact.
    He growled into her mouth. Caught her bottom lip with

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