Ciji Ware by Midnight on Julia Street

Author:Midnight on Julia Street [Street, Midnight on Julia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-05-30T02:28:26+00:00

Chapter 17

April 5

An open carriage with battery-powered headlights turned the corner at Church Street, heading toward a livery stable. At the reins was a tourist guide with a boom box blaring full blast on the seat next to him. Vastly relieved, Corlis gave silent thanks that she was still tethered to her own century.

“Got your house key, Ace?” King asked, leaning a cloaked arm against the carved white molding that framed the entrance to her building.

“The damn thing’s in here somewhere,” she muttered as she rooted at the bottom of her purse. At almost the same moment she found her key ring she felt King slide his hand up her arm.

“Well, sugar,” he murmured, his mouth only inches away from hers, “that was quite a party tonight, huh?” To both her joy and dismay, he slowly and deliberately bent down and brushed his lips against hers with a come-hither invitation that she’d have to be unconscious to ignore. After a few long, delicious seconds, he backed off a bit and scrutinized her closely.

“I guess this is good night,” she murmured. For another long moment, she was virtually incapable of breaking from his steady gaze.

Then, in an act of pure instinct, she released her grip on her key ring and allowed it to fall to the bottom of her purse. She withdrew her right hand from the depths of her shoulder bag and felt the leather pouch slide down her arm and land with a soft plop near her feet. As if someone had switched her to automatic pilot, she put both arms around King’s shoulders, closing the short space between their lips, and held on to steady herself. She tilted her head back and sought to inhale his breath—as if the man’s very life force could keep her grounded.

When she thought about it afterward, Corlis couldn’t recall who had made the next move, but their second kiss was electrifying, terrifying, and foreshadowed a potential for intimacy that was shocking in the extreme. She opened her mouth the merest fraction and nearly gasped when she felt his tongue’s feathery touch, redolent with the honeyed taste of cane syrup. Like his breath, the tip of his tongue felt hot against hers… hot as the flames that had licked sugarcane fields in some other life she had once briefly glimpsed.

Then another heady fragrance piqued her senses: King’s aftershave. It was a sophisticated blend of tangy lemon verbena, overlaid with the unmistakably masculine scent of a man who had spent a long, sultry evening in a heavy velvet costume. She was faintly conscious that she had begun to lean into him, so that now their bodies were pressed against each other with nothing separating their torsos except for a few layers of fabric. Their kiss became an exploration, a first tentative probing around the edges of their secret selves.

She felt bereft when King finally pulled away from her. He hesitated, as if waiting for her signal that she would welcome him further. “My, my…” he murmured, “the lady from California certainly likes to be kissed.

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