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It's a beguilingly tender kiss, one that makes me go liquid inside

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It's a beguilingly tender kiss, one that makes me go liquid inside. He slides his arm from my neck, down my back, and to my waist, drawing me into his warmth. The wind picks up, and my hair blows away from my face while the fronds of a nearby palm tree rattle against each other.

"Jesus. Kissing you is still as natural as breathing," he whispers.

I can't talk, can't think, can barely move. I stand, still as a statue, my lips pulsing from the sensation. He kisses me again.

My lips won't budge at first, I'm so shocked at what's happening. His mouth feels exactly the same as it used to, and I don't know whether I want to devour him or sob or run. So I shiver, my body coming alive as his lips touch mine. His hand is still on my neck and jaw, and it feels so goddamn right.

I moan against his mouth.

He has no intention of stopping and gently nudges my lips open with his tongue. I melt into him, and his taste is sweeter than I remember. Sweet and dangerous, a deadly combination. I hesitantly graze his tongue with the tip of mine, then lightly nip his bottom lip. His kiss is soft and lush, filling my brain with memories. I let out another tiny whimper of pleasure. Our lonely, awful past melts away, and I'm left with only the present, which is raw and honest. Left with only his hot and yearning lips on mine.

He stops and nuzzles his mouth to my cheek, and I'm overwhelmed by his spicy scent lingering on my skin. It's a kiss that could make me reconsider my entire life, exactly like another kiss so long ago, when he kissed me for the first time under a Miami moon.

"Justi," he whispers. "I've thought about this all day. Maybe it's why I really drove five hours to be here."

I draw back, even though I don't want to. I feel my mouth quiver. This is so wrong. In a flash, I go from sensual to shock to anger. Sometimes I'm impulsive like that, especially when I'm emotionally overloaded.

"What...what the hell is this?" I fume, wriggling out of his grip so my entire back is drenched by the rain. He presses forward with the umbrella and his big body.

He looks at me with half-lidded eyes, unsteady with desire. Adrenaline surges through my body. I want him, but I shouldn't. I can't.

I can't with any of this.

"A kiss. For old time's sake," he murmurs. "May I have another, please?"

"We're trying to do business together and put the past behind us and you kiss me? That was completely unprofessional and impulsive, Rafael. What is wrong with you?"

I lick my lips, and he responds with a growl.

"Do you want impulsive? I'll give you impulsive, Justine."

My heart stutters when he tosses the umbrella down the concrete steps, allowing the rain to wash over us. With both hands, he grabs my face and kisses me with an open-mouthed hunger. A low groan in my throat inspires him to kiss me harder. Which is fine by me. I'm now angry and needy and really damned confused. As if on cue, a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning burst nearby. Neither of us flinches or parts. Water runs down our faces and drenches our clothes. I kiss him back with a rough desperation, as if I want to devour him, and he reciprocates with equal urgency. I arch my back so that my breasts press hard into his chest.

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