His mouth over hers is like...like someone striking one of those gong-things in a Hindu temple and standing too close. It runs down her spine and into her knees. As fucking cliche is that is, they feel weak.

No one's ever kissed her like this. She knows it. Fuck, she knows it. Worse, she wants it. And instead of running or pushing or taking, Kate just tugs his shirt free and slides her hands under it and stays right here. With Declan.