A Line Crossed

Joanne didn't.

Instead, her fingers fisted the fabric of his shirt.

That was all the invitation he needed.

His lips found hers in a slow, hesitant brush, testing. She was warm, soft, tasting faintly of broth and something uniquely her.

He deepened the kiss before he could stop himself. A slow slide of lips, the heat between them building, his hand trailing up, cupping the side of her neck.

She let out a small sound—half sigh, half plea—and it sent a violent shudder through him.

JD wanted more.

He shouldn't. But God, he wanted. Her.

His fingers skimmed the damp strap of her slip, his lips tracing the corner of her mouth before trailing lower, along the smooth line of her jaw.

She tilted her head back, giving him access, her skin burning under his touch.

His control frayed, snapping thread by thread.

And then—

A quiet thud echoed through the house. Fluffy!

JD froze.