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Walking backwards, I stepped into the steady rain, beneath the cover of nightfall, holding his unwavering gaze.

His eyes followed me as I toyed with the hem of the tank top. As I bit my lip, pulled the material over my head, and bared my chest. As I trailed fingers over my collarbone, around the outer curve of my breast, and teased the waistband of my pants.

He didn’t look away as I drew a trembling breath and slid down one side of the pants, then the other, the sodden fabric sticking to my thighs.

His gaze darted between my hands, my breasts, the V of my legs as I guided the pants downward, exposing inch by soaking-wet inch of my body. I kicked the pants away and stood before him, nude, vulnerable, trembling head-to-toe in the warm drizzle.

I stood in the rain to remind him we were safe from aphids. I removed my clothes to prove I was safe with him. I held his gaze to assure him he was safe with me.

His eyes didn’t jerk away. He didn’t run. Didn’t speak. Instead, he slowly rose to his feet and stepped into the rain, his unhurried strides gnawing away the distance until he towered over me.

My heart slammed against my ribs, and my fingers twitched to reach out, to grab him, to pull his mouth to mine. But I was too wet to move. Too wet to blame it on the rain.

Standing a foot apart, neither of us spoke. But his eyes said everything as he drank in my nudity, his gaze touching every curve, every shadow and goosebump, openly devouring me. I shivered and burned all at once, watching him the way he watched me.

His soaked jeans clung to his powerful thighs and hung low on his hips, exposing the cuts of his abs and the rivulets of rainwater following the ridges. Shadows cast over his face, streaked by wet strands of hair that plastered his forehead and temples. And his eyes… They blazed with a look I’d never seen on him before. He looked consumed. Possessed. Starved.

Closing the final foot between us, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to my hairline, to each of my eyebrows, and the bridge of my nose. With a hand on my chin, he tilted my face upward and brushed his lips over my cheeks, across my jaw, and the tip of my nose.

I held my breath, afraid I’d miss the sound of his, afraid one wrong movement would shatter the moment.

The rain immersed us, washing away the day’s regrets, oblivious of the night’s impossible choices. There was a limit to how far this could go. I closed my eyes and accepted whatever Jesse was willing to give.

His hands curled around my neck, and his mouth moved across my cheek, slow and teasing, lingering on the corner of my lips. It was too much.

I sank my fingernails into his biceps and centered my stance, fully aware that I, Evie Delina of Hornyville, was about to use a Kung Fu move with the intent to molest him. “If you don’t kiss me—”

He crashed his mouth against mine, his hands locking my head at an angle as his tongue plunged past my lips. I fell against him, adrift in the hard grip of his fingers, in his earthy taste, and in the ferocity of his aggression.

I returned the kiss with fervor, holding onto his arms with shaking hands, my feet braced in the wet grass, determined to stay upright. Though I knew, heaven help me, I’d already fallen.

My need for him burst into an insatiable hunger, jolting through my body and tightening between my thighs. Mouths locked in a frenzy, our lips mashed together, hot and wet and bruising. I hooked a leg around his ass and ground against him, wantonly, wildly, unable to relieve the demanding pressure.

Kissing was the ultimate sexual seduction, a man’s tongue an extension of his arousal. It mimicked the thrust of his cock like a warning, a promise of pleasure so intense it could stroke away all thought and leave a woman quivering and breathless and completely under his power.

Jesse had conquered the exquisite skill and made it his own. Each whip of his tongue sent electricity to my toes. Every bite of his teeth rang a tinkling note of pleasure in my ears. His full lips were everywhere, his gasps pushing me harder, higher, elevating me to a state of intoxication.

As the rain ebbed into a sprinkling shower and my lips smarted with delicious prickles, his hands closed around my shoulders. He sucked and nuzzled my bottom lip, his tongue sliding over the swollen skin. I could feel him preparing to pull away.

I dug my fingernails into his biceps, holding him to me.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavy and fast against my mouth. “This is a first for me.”