Читать книгу Dakota Marshal - Jenna Ryan - Страница 2

Images of the two of them skin-to-skin, rediscovering each other’s bodies, streaked through her mind. Though they were in a truck on the side of the road, she still wanted to strip away McBride’s clothes. Worse, she wanted him to tear off hers.

All that pent-up desire was unleashed from a single mind-blowing kiss that got more potent the longer it went on. She should end it before her sanity dissolved. But his hands were cupping her face, the back of her neck, holding her in place so he could ravish—yes, actually ravish—every inch of her mouth. And she was loving it.

Instead of going with wisdom, she matched him stroke for delicious stroke with her tongue. There was a smoky darkness, an element of danger in the way he touched her. It hinted at some never quite spoken vice she’d been warned by her father not to want or accept. And never to enjoy.

The memory of that warning rang through her mind when it was displaced by another sound—two echoing gunshots, fired directly at them.