Blue Hollow Falls by Donna Kauffman

Author:Donna Kauffman [Kauffman, Donna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-06-26T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Being kissed by Sawyer Hartwell wasn’t at all the way she’d dreamed it would be. And yes, she’d dreamed. Hot, sweaty, passionate dreams where the kisses were savage, leading right to clothes being torn, buttons sent flying, panties left in tatters. She’d expected him to be all soldier-on-a-mission, one where victory was determined by how quickly he could ratchet her up, then drive her straight over the edge.

She supposed she should have known Mr. Master Sergeant Special Forces would be far, far stealthier than that. And with his stealth, wreak far greater havoc on her body . . . and quite shockingly, her heart.

He laid claim; let there be no doubt about that. He was confident, but not forceful, skilled but not overly practiced, but his most decimating talent was that he paid attention . . . such close, close attention. If she gasped, he heard it, repeated what had caused it. If she sighed and parted her lips, he didn’t immediately dive in. No, he made her sigh again, then again, until she was seeking his tongue, inviting him inside, all but begging his entry. If she relaxed into him, just a little maybe, he eased himself around her, steadying her, supporting her, inviting her to simply let go and don’t you worry . . . I’ll take care of the rest.

And oh . . . did he.

She wanted to be more in control, or at least share some part of deciding how this was going to go, where it was going to lead. But she was basically clinging to him, too busy being swept along on every ripple of sensation, shivering with ever-heightening awareness, moaning softly as he continued to explore her mouth like he’d discovered one of the Seven Wonders of the World. The pleasure she felt was intoxicating and all consuming. And they were just kissing.

He framed her face with those broad, strong palms of his, and angled her mouth so he could claim every last part of it. She was whimpering now, wanting his hands pressed to far more feverish places, exploring them the way his tongue was exploring the recesses of her mouth. As if reading her mind, and at this point, she was fairly convinced they were kinetically connected, he slid his hands to her shoulders, then down her arms. It wasn’t until he lifted his head and gently set her a step back that she dazedly realized she’d all but entwined herself around him.

Feeling suddenly embarrassed by her very atypical display of clinging, wanton neediness she quickly lifted one hand to smooth her hair and the other to dry her damp lips. She turned away from him in hopes of gathering whatever remnants of her dignity might remain, only he caught her hand and gently tugged her back close. So close she had to look straight up to make eye contact. So close their bodies brushed, which only served to ignite her response to him like a match to fresh tinder. She tried to look away, to step back, but he kept her right there.

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