Left at the Altar by Margaret Brownley

Author:Margaret Brownley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2016-08-19T04:00:00+00:00

Twenty-two

Meg stared up at him. He wanted to kiss her?

“On the cheek,” he explained.

Her pulse quickened, and she swallowed hard. “Th-that would be fine,” she stammered. If a single kiss was thought to ward off loneliness, who was she to argue?

Grant moved his hands to her waist, and she angled her face to the side. Just before his lips touched her cheek, she changed her mind and turned her head to tell him as much.

“I don’t think—”

Her words were crushed the moment his mouth found hers, the tolling bell and booming skyrockets urging them on like the crack of a whip on a team of horses.

The warmth of his lips quickly melted the last of her resistance, and warm currents rushed all the way down to her toes. A knot of shivery feelings exploded inside, matching the fireworks overhead and shattering her calm.

The hands at her waist were firm, his mouth insistent. Fingers pressed against his chest, she absorbed the impact of his hard muscles through her palms.

Feeling suddenly emboldened, she rose on tiptoes and slipped her hands up his chest and around his neck. Pulling him closer, she ran her fingers through his hair and met his kiss with equal ardor.

Did this man ever know how to kiss! Even more shocking was her own eager response. Where had this new brazen and passionate self come from? They were both out of breath by the time he pulled away.

She wasn’t sure when the actual bells stopped ringing, but the deep gongs still seemed to echo through the pounding of her heart.

“I-I didn’t mean for that to happen.” His whispered voice caressed the shell of her ear like velvet, sending warm shivers down her neck. “I just meant to kiss you on the cheek. Honest.”

“Perhaps an anatomy lesson is in order,” she whispered back, her voice thick with emotion.

He laughed, breaking the tension between them, and moved his hands away from her waist. “I told you I should have studied medicine.”

They stood staring at each other for a moment before looking away, she to gaze at the smoke veiling the stars, he to pull out his watch. Holding it to the light, he thumbed the case open.

“We have exactly thirty-eight minutes till midnight strikes again.” Snapping the lid shut, he slipped the watch back into his vest pocket. His heated gaze locked with hers. “So what do you say about celebrating New Year’s with me a second time?” His voice was husky and, more than anything, persuasive.

Her mouth went dry. “A s-second time?”

“If one kiss will ward off loneliness for the year, who’s to say what two would do?” When she hesitated, he added, “I think it only fair to warn you that next time I won’t be aiming for your cheek.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and her knees quivered. His eyes, his voice, his very essence beckoned. It was all she could do not to fly into his arms and start the second New Year early.

Grant tilted his head. “So what do you say?”

She wanted to say yes.

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