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My FIRST KISS is from Where the Rain Is Made, a time-travel, western romance novel.
This man of solid muscle and power with his dark, brooding looks had frightened her in the past, but now those traits made her want him in the most shameful way. She longed for him to seize her, force himself upon her. Dear Maman, when had she lost all control of her senses?
Logic and reason left her. She didn't care if he knew how much she needed him. She slid her hand beneath his shirt, her fingers lingering over the raised circles of scar tissue near each breast. The sound of his rapid inhalation pleased her. She searched his face, hoping to read his thoughts, but found only a smoky glaze in his eyes.
Engrossed in the current of passion between them, his words startled her. "You've never lain with a man before?"
She croaked out an answer. "No."
"Then you should stop if you want to keep it that way."
"Tomorrow I could be dead." The strain had left her voice, replaced by a strength she knew she'd find with him.
"You think to taste this fruit before your life is over?"
"And you think I'm using you for—for my own selfish reasons?"
His tongue found her ear, dissolving any wavering thoughts. "I think a woman who is about to face what you must should have her every wish granted."
Hard and searching, his mouth covered hers. He lifted her without effort and shifted his weight until she lay beneath him. Her breath lodged in her chest when his hands stroked her face and trailed down her throat.
She arched beneath him, her nipples taut with need. He rolled the pants down her hips, lifted her shirt and pulled it over her head. Closing her eyes, she heard him remove his clothing and counted off the seconds. Soon that hard body would cover hers, their bare skin would meet.
She whimpered and then he was there, sliding his hands over her flesh with the skill of a sculptor. His scent intoxicated her, pure male tinged with the heady aromas of pine trees, horseflesh and the earth. Everything about the man oozed wild, including her spiraling feelings for him. Beneath her palm, his heart thundered in perfect sync with hers. How odd, his skin felt warm and cool at the same time. A shiver claimed her when he responded to her touch with a low moan.
Panting, he loomed over her, his left arm holding the weight of his body, his right hand seeking the nub of her sex. Normally shy about her body, she moaned, couldn't dispel the fire in the pit of her belly. Gentle yet demanding, he stroked her, wringing a series of gasps from her lips. In a moment of panic, she drew her legs together and cringed.
"You are afraid?" He withdrew his hand. "You wish me to stop?"
The absence of his touch stripped away the remaining doubt. She shook her head and guided his hand back. "Don't stop, please don't stop."
* Nominated for a Bookie Award