Friday, June 20, 2008



Sage started toward her. Hannah swallowed her giggles and backed up a step. The waken looked dark and vengeful with mock fury on his face. Still, it was worth it.
He set down the soft drink can and reached for the glass of ice. Laughing, she tried to dart around him, but he closed in on her until he hemmed her in a corner.
“Now, don’t do anything foolish that could cause you to lose your towel.”
He arched a brow. “Don’t worry about my towel, mau-ley. If I lose it, it will be on purpose.”
He lifted her shirt and dragged the ice cube across her bare midriff.
“Don’t! You’ll make me wet my pants.”
“I already made you wet your pants, baby.”
“I wasn’t talking about that kind of wet.” She slapped at his busy hand and laughed. “Stop! I surrender. You must take some kind of perverted thrill in torturing me.”
“I do.” He raised her shirt higher, stared at the flesh-colored bra cupping her breasts. “I like this thing you’re wearing. I can see your nipples.”
He dragged the ice cube across her bra, wetting the tight buds through the soft material.
She wiggled and gave a yelp. “Enough! I give!”
“Not enough wench! Say you’re sorry and then I might stop this torture.”
“I’m sorry. Now let me out of this corner.”
“I lied.” He laughed and reached for a second piece of ice.
“Me, too. I’m not sorry at all.”
“No?” he said playfully. “Hmm, maybe I can think of another way to torture you.”
Slowly, he lowered his head, giving her time to draw back if she wanted. She wasn’t a fool. Sage was hot. Why should she miss a kiss from a studly man? No reason came to mind. Then his mouth was on hers, his tongue probing, parting her lips and gliding inside. He tasted like smooth, whipped chocolate and hot steamy sex. His exploration of her mouth was thorough, a bit rough, and a lot hungry.
Jesus, he knew how to kiss.
Hannah moaned and arched against him. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she held him against her as he rocked his hips in a familiar rhythm.
Slowly, he raised his head, his eyes shimmering and hot. His chest heaved with a ragged breath. He moaned. “Don’t move, mau-ley. I . . . just don’t move anymore.” He rested his forehead against hers and breathed deeply. “Give me a minute. Fook!” He quivered against her, his body trembling. “There’s just no foreplay that’s going to work for us, Hannah,” he whispered.

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