Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

CHAPTER 19
I’VE KISSED LESS than a handful of women in my life.
I’ve fucked far more than that.
Kissing is just not something I’ve ever been very fond of.
It’s too intimate. Vulnerable. When your lips are locked with someone
else’s, there are too many variables left open for an attack, and I’ve spent my
life on high alert, always anticipating an assault.
But when Elena plasters herself against me, clasping her arms around my
neck and dragging my lips to hers, I let her. It’s a much more innocent
gesture than the scenarios playing out in my mind—thoughts of pinning her
against the wall and spearing her on my cock, as if the trauma from the last
twenty-four hours wasn’t enough.
I shouldn’t want to add my own brand to the mix.
I don’t know how, but every time our lips meet, she tastes fucking divine;
like a holy scripture written to absolve me of my sins, something sweet and