““I told you in York,” he said. “It isn’t over.” Her eyes closed briefly against a swell of such raw yearning she didn’t know whether to weep or to swoon. He bent his head to hers. “It never has been. Not for me.” She felt his breath warm against her lips for a suspended moment before his mouth captured hers. A muffled gasp. A flicker of doubt. And then . . . Oh, and then. Her lips softened, yielding beneath his as if they’d been waiting for him all this time. A low growl of approval sounded in his throat. It reverberated within her, a thoroughly disconcerting sensation. She wanted—””
