Tipping her chin up, he whispered, “Anything for you.” Then he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, savoring the sweet taste he’d only dreamt of. She leaned against him, their bodies molding together perfectly. In the strains of Woodstock music coming from the living room, he swore he heard the lyrics I’ll gift you forever, to have and to hold.
As their kisses grew more passionate, she mumbled against his lips, “We should drink our tea before it gets cold.”
“I hate chamomile tea,” he confessed.
She drew away and stared at him. “You lied?”
“Fibbed a little. But only to get my foot in the door.”
She punched him lightly on the chest. “Don’t do that again.”
“You have my word.” He grabbed her fist and kissed her knuckles one by one, lavishing his tongue over the flesh. A tiny moan escaped from her. He gazed at her in expectation. Her eyes dropped shut, her head dipping backward as an expression of rapture floated over her face.
The doorbell rang, startling them apart.
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