EXCERPT:
He cut her off by pressing his finger to her lips. "Shh," he said, and sealed the distance between them with a kiss.
Christi made a plaintive noise into Mr. Russo's mouth. His lips were as hot as his breath. He tasted of wine and mint, and something else indefinable and compelling. He held the kiss as he pressed her into the back of the couch. For a moment she let herself be carried away by the surge of feeling. She'd been kissed before, but only once at camp. That hadn't been like this. This wasn't some boy fumbling. This was a man. His hand stroked her knee, then slid up her thigh. It felt big and warm against her bare skin. She broke off for a breath. "Mr. Russo, what are you..."
That big, warm hand traced its way up her inner thigh. In just her skirt and panties, she felt nearly naked. He smiled down her as he caressed her skin. "You're very beautiful, Christi. I can't believe all the boys at school wouldn't go wild over you."
"Oh. But they don't." Christi tried to switch gears. She felt confused. Mr. Russo was nearly as old as her father! This had to be wrong. She'd known the family for years, had remembered trick-or-treating at their house. But that had been years ago, part of her whispered. And besides, it said, he kissed you first. "Mr. Russo, I'm not sure - "
"Call me Mark." His fingers flirted with the edge of her skirt.
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