There were no thoughts in Thatcher's brain as he floated up behind her, his hands reaching for her hips. But he was aware of the anxious pounding of his heart. I was as though he were a nervous teenager placing his hands on a female body for the very first time. No other woman had ever aroused such angst in him. He wondered if he should stop, slow his roll, discuss<i> what</i>she was doing here and<i>why</i>she was standing in his bedroom. But her teasing little question — O<i>nly sleep? </i>— confirmed that she already knew the answer. When she leaned back into his palms, her back pressing to his muscled chest, he knew he made the right decision. Standing this close, she could no doubt smell the pine-scented body wash and menthol after shave still lingering from the shower he took moments before she arrived.<br/><br/>"Among other things," he crooned, directly into her ear, some overlooked stubble scratching fleetingly against her skin. The tatted fingers of his left hand lifted up to brush her blonde hair back over her shoulder, providing him access to her neck. He planted one, two firm kisses there. His fingers then found her jaw, turning her mouth towards his. He kissed her for the very first time, over her shoulder, standing behind her. The wind in the snow howled beyond the windows.<br/><br/>He first felt the urge to kiss her on her wedding day. But at the exact moment he was about to do it, Pete swept in. "Trying to steal my girl?" he laughed as he slapped Thatcher jovially on the shoulder. He told Tanya the DJ was ready for their first dance and took her way. In Thatcher's heartbreak and desperation, he immediately cast a wolflike gaze on the prettiest bridesmaid. A few hours later, she was on all fours on his hotel bed with her lace panties shoved in her mouth. But as he railed her, only thoughts of Tanya were flashing through his skull. He hated that Pete was somewhere in that same hotel likely peeling off Tanya's wedding dress.<br/><br/>All of it explained the hunger with which Thatcher kissed her now.<br/><br/>As one hand held her face, his tongue pushed forward to probe hers. It was sloppy and passionate. The other hand on her hip, circled to the inside of her thigh, squeezing it through the denim of the jeans, pulling her lithe frame even tighter to his.