I turn to look at her. She’s framed in the doorway with the light bright behind her and her face in shadow, her hair a golden corona around her head. A band of tightness settles around my chest.
I take a step toward her. She takes a step back. I don’t know what she sees on my face, but her eyes are huge and her pulse is throbbing in the side of her neck.
When I take another step and she retreats again, I stop. “Are you afraid of me?”
She laughs shakily. “No.”
“Then why are you backing up?”
“I was hoping I’d be at the wall by now. I need it to hold me up. I’m so excited I think I might faint.”
The band around my chest grows tighter.
“Stay where you are,” I say, holding her gaze. The eye contact feels like a touch, like an electrical current running on a loop between us. It’s probably close to ninety degrees, but the skin on my arms raises in gooseflesh. As I take another step toward her, she flexes her hands open and draws a breath.
She says with quiet wonder, “I can feel my heartbeat in my fingertips.”
“I know. Me too.”
I advance another step. She’s an arm’s length away. I see it when she begins to tremble.
“This must be what a stroke feels like,” she whispers as I reach out and touch her face.
“Probably not this good.” I slide my hand into her hair, and she bites her lip.
When I move closer, she raises her hands and flattens them on my chest. I know she can feel how hard my heart is pounding. Her breathing is as erratic as mine.
“Oh God,” she says faintly. “I really hope this kiss you’re about to give me is as amazing as the pre-kiss. I think my panties just went up in flames.”
“Not a good idea to talk to me about your panties right now, sweetheart,” I murmur, brushing my lips over her jaw. “I’m barely in control as it is.”
I nuzzle my nose into the soft, sweet spot under her earlobe and drag in a breath scented of her skin. She shudders. I cradle her head in my hands as her fingers dig into my chest. I open my mouth over the pulse in her throat and she moans, low and soft, arching into me.
That little moan sets my entire body on fire.
With one hand cupped around the back of her head and the other around her jaw, I tilt her head back and fit my mouth to hers.
Her lips part. Our tongues touching is an electrical shock. She makes a soft, feminine noise in the back of her throat that makes me feel savage, like an animal.
We stand in the gloom and kiss, deep and slow, until the urge to push her against the wall, lift her skirt, and thrust deep inside her is a hot, heady pulse in my veins. She slides her arms up around my shoulders so her breasts press against my chest. I feel her nipples, two hard points in a lush expanse of skin, and groan into her mouth.
My dick is so hard it’s throbbing.
“I want you to kiss me everywhere,” she whispers, breaking away from my mouth but staying in my arms. She’s panting. Her eyes look glazed. “I want you to take off my clothes and kiss me everywhere like that. Promise me you will.”
I huff out a breath that’s part laugh and part groan. “So it measured up to the pre-kiss, huh?”
About J.T. Geissinger:
J.T. Geissinger is a bestselling author of emotionally charged romance and women’s fiction. Ranging from funny, feisty rom coms to intense, edgy suspense, her books have sold more than one million copies and been translated into several languages.
She is the recipient of the Prism Award for Best First Book, the Golden Quill Award for Best Paranormal/Urban Fantasy, and is a two-time finalist for the RITA® Award from the Romance Writers of America®. She has also been a finalist in the Booksellers’ Best, National Readers’ Choice, and Daphne du Maurier Awards.
Her first novel was published in 2012. Since then she’s written eighteen more novels. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, drinking wine, surfing the internet, and daydreaming about all the things she’s going to be when she grows up. She lives near the beach in Los Angeles with her husband and deaf/demented rescue kitty, Ginger.
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