The Gift: A Novella by Sandra Marton

Author:Sandra Marton [Marton, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Military, Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages), Contemporary Fiction
Amazon: B00IRG727S
Published: 2014-03-01T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

The bedroom was all gold and white. A crystal chandelier hung over the bed.

There was no reason to turn it on.

This was a moment that deserved soft shadows. The falling snow, the glint of street lamps that had just come on, lent the room all the light it needed.

Kaz lowered Katie to her feet. Her eyes were wide and dark, the color of amethysts. Her mouth was the palest rose. He could see the pulse beating in the hollow of her throat.

The need within him was hot and urgent. He had never felt anything like it. He wanted to strip her bare. Ravish her.

Every instinct he possessed warned him against it.

“Katie.” His voice was low. Rough. He framed her face with his hands. “Are you sure?”

Katie stared at him. Her head was spinning. Was this what it felt like if you’d had too much champagne?

She didn’t know. She’d never had too much to drink. Never had too much of anything. Safety lay in being cautious.

“Sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

She looked into the face of this stranger.

“You,” she whispered, and she rose on her toes, lifted herself into his kiss.

He groaned as he swept his arms around her. She felt delicate. Fragile. And yet he knew her strength, understood that in her own way she had overcome what life had dealt her just as he had.

He slid one hand into her hair, tilted her face to his and captured her lips.

There it was again, the taste of honey and vanilla and cream, the satin softness, the sweetness that was her mouth.

She moaned.

He deepened the kiss.

She whispered something. His name. She shifted against him, and he caught his breath.

“Easy,” he said.

She pulled back.

“No,” he said, “no, don’t move away.” He cupped her bottom, lifted her into him. She gasped at the feel of him and the sound of that gasp sent heat racing through him. “I only meant—if we go too fast… I want this to last, sweetheart. And if you move against me—”

He kissed her throat. Her head fell back and he kissed her throat again, but the sweater was in the way.

“Wait,” he said, and he eased the sweater up over her head, over her arms.

Better. So much better. The simple cotton T. The softness of it. And, oh yes, she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Kaz cupped one hand over her breast.

She cried out. Her nipple jutted into his palm. He bent his head. Kissed her breasts through the thin cotton. Caught one nipple, then the other lightly between his teeth.

She sobbed. Her knees buckled. He caught her in his arms and took her to the bed.

He undressed her. Slowly. Slowly enough to make the blood seem to run thick in his veins. First her boots. Then her black tights. He drew back and looked at her, so lovely, so beautiful in low-cut white cotton panties and the little white T-shirt.

He could have looked at her forever, his gaze sweeping over the length of her legs, the curve of her hips, the swift rise and fall of her breasts.

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