Deadly Memories

A millimeter at a time, his fingers moved to her nape, lightly toyed with her hair.

The interior of the car became totally devoid of oxygen.

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb slowly caressed her jaw, and his eyes took a long, lazy trip over her body. “You’ve matured into a beautiful woman. That dress, and the body in it, drew a lot of male attention tonight.”

Fire licked through her bloodstream. Goose flesh tingled on her arms.

She knew she should bolt for the house, but her feet were cemented to the floor mat. She held her breath. Waited.

His gaze locked with hers. Smoldering. Sexy. He was remembering making love in the past. She could see it in the way his pupils glazed, darkened, and dilated.

Her mind flew in a similar direction. That little voice inside of her whispered, I still want you.

As if she’d said the words aloud, he smiled devilishly, then leaned over and ever so slowly claimed her mouth.

The rush of sensations brought tears to her eyes. His taste, his warmth, the electric thrill of his lips touching hers. His firm mouth pressing, his tongue probing, her body melting. She clung to him as if their last kiss had been yesterday, as if he was still hers to savor forever.

She wanted to weep for the pleasure, weep for the memories of loss.

He broke the kiss, drew back a bare millimeter. His breath was hot on her skin. He whispered in a voice like dark honey, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”