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Chandler ran the edge of his nose along hers, and she tried not to whimper pitifully that they weren't kissing because why, why weren't they kissing? She wanted this feeling to last forever. It was the closest she'd ever come to skydiving, to bungee jumping, free-falling through the air, and her blood sang violently in her veins at how heady it all was.

He went back in with a growl, tilting his head so he could sweep his tongue against hers. They were wound so tightly around each other; her leg curled around him when he used his hand, gripping possessively around her thigh to hitch it higher.

The way that he fit her hips to his, Elena broke away from the kiss with a gasp. Shooting, sparking little fires erupted when he rolled against her, pressing her back against the wall. It was wild and crazy because anyone could see them, and yet Elena had the indistinct, hazy thought that with one press of his hand, one movement of his body between her legs, she'd explode like a lit bomb.

His mou