Rhythmn Of The Heart

Her eyes, wide and dark, met his. The passion that ignited his gaze was a wildfire, reflecting the inferno now raging within her. She saw desire, raw and untamed, mirrored in the depths of his pupils. Her lips parted on a silent gasp, her chest heaving."Clara, " he whispered, his voice hoarse, a tremor running through it. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, tracing its delicate curve. Her skin tingled, hypersensitive.
She wanted to lean into that touch, to feel the full press of his mouth on hers. He lowered his head, slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away. But she didn't. She couldn't. Her body was screaming for him, her heart thundering a rhythm that had nothing to do with dance, and everything to do with a basic instinct. His lips, soft and hesitant at first, brushed hers, a feather light touch that promised so much more.
Then, with a low groan that seemed to tear from his very soul, he crushed his mouth against hers, a fierce, hungry kiss that devoured her hesitation, her reservations, everything but the burning need that consumed them both. Her hands, without conscious thought, flew to his shoulders, gripping the taut muscles beneath his shirt. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his hard body.
She felt the undeniable proof of his arousal pressing against her belly, a thick, insistent ridge that sent a jolt of pure lust through her. Her own core pulsed, a deep, aching throb beginning between her legs. His tongue plunged into her mouth, hot and dominant, exploring every curve, every recess. She met him with equal fervor, her own tongue tangling with his, a desperate dance of desire. The kiss deepened, becoming ravenous, greedy.
She could taste him - the lingering sweetness of coffee, the salty tang of his skin, and something else, something uniquely his, that sent her senses spiraling.