She couldn't decide what she loved more—his kisses or the moments right before them.

His kisses could be very different. Fiery and hard, soft and tender, wet and seductive, long and deep...there was an endless combination, and she knew she'd never tire of them.

Those seconds right before his lips met hers, though, were always the same.

The longing in her eyes, even if they weren't always open for him to see, closed in delicious anticipation.

The slow burning of her cheeks, the erratic pounding of her heart, the sweet tightness in her belly.

That rush of pure sensation made her skin tingle, her body ache. For him.

Breathing in the same air that he was, but still utterly breathless, caught up in all of the emotions within her, between them.

And now, as his lips caressed hers, she decided that she'd never tire of those moments either.

Not that they were moments, really.

Because around him, she was always like that.