Dancing in the Moonlight - Harlequin.com

RAEANNE THAYNE
79
He made a low sound and deepened the kiss, his
mouth firm and purposeful on hers, and she forgot about
the pain below her knee, forgot about the frustration she
had been fighting the entire day over her own limitations,
forgot the man who held her was Jake Dalton, son
of the bastard who had destroyed her father.
For one glorious moment he was only a man—a
strong, gorgeous male who smelled of leather and horses
and a few lingering traces of that sexy aftershave he used;
a solid, strong wall of muscle against her, around her.
The man was one incredible kisser, she had to admit.
She shivered as his mouth explored hers, caressed it. He
used exactly the right pressure for maximum impact—
not too hard, not too soft. Just right to turn her bones to
liquid, her insides to mush.
Oh, it felt good to be in a man’s arms. For one brief,
selfish moment she allowed herself to enjoy it, to savor
the sensation of being held and cherished and protected,
her blood surging through her, her nerve endings
buzzing with desire.
She wasn’t sure at exactly what moment she shifted
from passive recipient to ardent participant. Maybe at
the first slight exploring brush of his tongue along the
seam of her lips.
The next thing she knew, her arms had somehow found
their way around his neck, she found herself pressing
against him tightly, and she was returning his kiss with
an enthusiasm that took her completely by surprise.
She jerked her eyes open and saw him gazing back
at her, an unreadable expression in the pure, stunning
blue of his eyes.