That year, after he won her New Year's money, she had viciously bitten him until he bled.
Seth Sinclair knew then that beneath her tranquil demeanor lay a hint of wildness.
Lianne Lianne had never been a girl without a temper.
First, she'd had three or four drinks, then downed a glass of vodka in one go.
Lianne's mind had given up on thinking. All she wanted was to bite the bastard in front of her—bite him hard, sink her teeth in, bite him until he couldn't speak.
But just as she opened her mouth, before her teeth could even make an appearance, the man's searing tongue slipped inside, licking the roof of her mouth and tangling with her own.
The distinct sound of sucking kisses echoed by her ear, mingled with wet gasps. Lianne was kissed until she was breathless, a small whimper escaping her throat. For a moment, Seth Sinclair lost himself.
His kiss gradually shifted from gentle to fierce, filled with a wild, plundering hunger.
