to decide, and fast, was how far she really wanted this thing to go. If she took the plunge, she’d have to give up the idea of writing about him. To do otherwise was completely unethical.
Her attention snapped back to the moment when Curran said, “Tell me your favorite flower.”
“Pale purple irises. Tell me your favorite movie,” she fired back.
“ Casablanca . Yours?”
“ Beauty and the Beast , Disney version. What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue. What world landmark would you most like to see?”
“Hmm, have to think about that one.”
He shook his head, his dark hair nearly falling in his eyes. “No, give the first answer that occurs to you.”
“Fine. St. Basil’s Cathedral in Red Square. Same question for you.”
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. His eyes were bright, warm. “That mountain carved into Crazy Horse in South Dakota.” He reached out, lightly touching her knuckles. She unlaced her fingers, allowing him to clasp her hand in his. “Favorite holiday.”
She smiled. “Christmas. Yours?”
Curran’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he gave her hand a gentle tug. “Halloween.”
The quietly spoken word drew a crystalline memory of sitting astride him, tasting him. A hot tide of desire flooded through her. Whether because she failed to conceal it, or because the same rush swept over him, his green eyes darkened.
He rose over her, his hand sank into her hair, the gentle pressure of his fingers on her nape tilted her head back. The anticipation inside her rocketed, and she gasped as his mouth lowered to hers.
His lips caressed hers once, twice. Soft, warm, inviting. The third time, she slid her hands behind his neck and kissed him back, flicking the tip of her tongue against his mouth. A rumbling groan escaped him, and he pulled her up to her knees, his arms folding around her, molding her against him.
Curran brushed his tongue into her mouth, the warmth, the sugared coffee taste of him demanding her focus. Ripples of heat rolled through her, pooling low in her body, pressing thought aside in favor of simply feeling his arms tighten around her, the silken strands of his hair between her fingers.
His mouth left hers to trail along her jaw, down her throat. With one hand, he eased the top of her sweatshirt away from her neck and gently set his teeth against her skin, stealing her breath. She clutched at his soft shirt, reveling in the hard warmth of his chest beneath the fabric. When his left hand found her backside and pulled her against his hips, the hardness of him sent electric shivers through her. Her knees weakened, her senses reeled as she drowned in his heat, in his dark, mysterious, wholly male scent.
Somewhere, at the edge of the sensual cloud enveloping them, she heard a high-pitched sound, climbing and descending the musical scale. Reluctant, her skin screaming in disagreement with separation, she ran her hands between them, pressing his chest. His mouth captured hers again as she tried to disengage herself. For a moment she let herself be swept away before her senses cleared enough to identify the scales ringing from the direction of the chair where his coat lay. She broke the kiss, pushing against him more firmly. “Phone, Curran. Your phone.”
The phone sounded again, and Curran leveled a glare in its direction. He growled. “Kel’s ringtone.” Turning back to Victoria, he swept a quick kiss across her lips. “Don’t move from this spot.”
He left the couch, snagging the phone out of his coat pocket as it rang up the scale again. Concern shadowed his expression. That worried her, and made it easier to calm her raging hormones.
“Yeah, Kel?” He listened for a moment, then grimaced, running a hand through his dark hair. “Are you two okay? No, listen Kel, I don’t care about the vehicle. It wasn’t your fault.”
An accident. The last of her desire ebbed as she listened to Curran’s end of the conversation. His voice held a
Her attention snapped back to the moment when Curran said, “Tell me your favorite flower.”
“Pale purple irises. Tell me your favorite movie,” she fired back.
“ Casablanca . Yours?”
“ Beauty and the Beast , Disney version. What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue. What world landmark would you most like to see?”
“Hmm, have to think about that one.”
He shook his head, his dark hair nearly falling in his eyes. “No, give the first answer that occurs to you.”
“Fine. St. Basil’s Cathedral in Red Square. Same question for you.”
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. His eyes were bright, warm. “That mountain carved into Crazy Horse in South Dakota.” He reached out, lightly touching her knuckles. She unlaced her fingers, allowing him to clasp her hand in his. “Favorite holiday.”
She smiled. “Christmas. Yours?”
Curran’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he gave her hand a gentle tug. “Halloween.”
The quietly spoken word drew a crystalline memory of sitting astride him, tasting him. A hot tide of desire flooded through her. Whether because she failed to conceal it, or because the same rush swept over him, his green eyes darkened.
He rose over her, his hand sank into her hair, the gentle pressure of his fingers on her nape tilted her head back. The anticipation inside her rocketed, and she gasped as his mouth lowered to hers.
His lips caressed hers once, twice. Soft, warm, inviting. The third time, she slid her hands behind his neck and kissed him back, flicking the tip of her tongue against his mouth. A rumbling groan escaped him, and he pulled her up to her knees, his arms folding around her, molding her against him.
Curran brushed his tongue into her mouth, the warmth, the sugared coffee taste of him demanding her focus. Ripples of heat rolled through her, pooling low in her body, pressing thought aside in favor of simply feeling his arms tighten around her, the silken strands of his hair between her fingers.
His mouth left hers to trail along her jaw, down her throat. With one hand, he eased the top of her sweatshirt away from her neck and gently set his teeth against her skin, stealing her breath. She clutched at his soft shirt, reveling in the hard warmth of his chest beneath the fabric. When his left hand found her backside and pulled her against his hips, the hardness of him sent electric shivers through her. Her knees weakened, her senses reeled as she drowned in his heat, in his dark, mysterious, wholly male scent.
Somewhere, at the edge of the sensual cloud enveloping them, she heard a high-pitched sound, climbing and descending the musical scale. Reluctant, her skin screaming in disagreement with separation, she ran her hands between them, pressing his chest. His mouth captured hers again as she tried to disengage herself. For a moment she let herself be swept away before her senses cleared enough to identify the scales ringing from the direction of the chair where his coat lay. She broke the kiss, pushing against him more firmly. “Phone, Curran. Your phone.”
The phone sounded again, and Curran leveled a glare in its direction. He growled. “Kel’s ringtone.” Turning back to Victoria, he swept a quick kiss across her lips. “Don’t move from this spot.”
He left the couch, snagging the phone out of his coat pocket as it rang up the scale again. Concern shadowed his expression. That worried her, and made it easier to calm her raging hormones.
“Yeah, Kel?” He listened for a moment, then grimaced, running a hand through his dark hair. “Are you two okay? No, listen Kel, I don’t care about the vehicle. It wasn’t your fault.”
An accident. The last of her desire ebbed as she listened to Curran’s end of the conversation. His voice held a
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