Rain spell

Sarah felt Drake stiffen against her for a split second, and the next thing she knew, she had her back pressed to the wall of her suite room and Drake was kissing her, his mouth hungry and passionate on her own.

And maybe they should have been more worried about the fact that they still had the door of the suite open from when they rushed in, in an overeager bubble of lust, but Sarah couldn’t bring herself to care.

And oh, sweet Mary, she’d missed him. She’d missed him so much. Hot tears began to trail down her cheeks even as she continued to kiss him, giving him every bit of pent-up passion she’d stored up in the last miserable hours of staying away from him. His mouth licked at her own, his hands cupping her face even as his knee worked between hers. And it was frantic, and glorious and—

And her back was wet and sticky and when she turned her head, it made a squelching sound against the wall.

“Wet paint,” she murmured against his hot, insistent mouth, and then dove her tongue