The feminine urge to wrap myself around him and never let go… to kiss him until I'm gasping for air, lips swollen, tongues tangled like I can't survive without his taste… to clutch his hand while crossing the street, not because I need to, but because I want him bound to me in every step…The urge to tremble when his eyes burn into mine, to shiver when his fingers graze my skin and set fire in their trail… the feminine urge to lean back, whisper for him to hook my bra, to lock my pendant, his fingers brushing my bare spine just long enough to make me ache… the urge to unbutton his shirt the moment he comes home, hungry to touch the warmth of his skin, to claim him before the world can… the urge to grab his wrist, drag his hand higher up my thigh while he's driving, until his grip owns me completely… the desperate urge to surrender my body to his hunger—his mouth marking my neck, his teeth sinking into my skin, his fingers leaving bruises on my hips, my thighs, everywhere—so that when I look in the mirror, I see the evidence of his possession, the proof that I'm his, and he's the only one who has ever devoured me so completely...
