Kezia could’ve guessed from the soapy scent wafting over her shoulder. Soap and something else. The XY factor that made some men smell so good you just wanted to lick the nearest inch of available skin.
You’re like this frosting.” She swiped another swirl of it on her finger, stood and leaned forward to touch it to his bottom lip. “Pretty, momentarily pleasurable, but with no real substance or sustenance.
Then Ben’s mouth descended again and her thoughts, as fickle as tiny fish, swam out of her head. Gentle brushes of his lips turned into more insistent strokes of his mouth. Sexually frustrated widow or not, there was little doubt the man could kiss...
