Kiss in The Dark|
An Authorized Excerpt
Copyright ©2004 by Shelby Morgen
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She'd never seen a night so black. No lights in the houses. No streetlamps. Not even moonlight creeping around the edges of the thick storm clouds. She couldn't see an inch in front of her face. It was as quiet as it was dark. All the trappings of civilization had disappeared. Only the sound of their breathing broke the total stillness of the night.
They huddled in the dark, waiting, while the storm raged outside. Tomorrow the sun would shine and they'd begin to find their way again, but tonight they were lost sheep, cuddled together for warmth. Strangers, thrown together by fate.
Strong, masculine hands chaffed her arms, warming her skin, heating her blood, making it hard to focus on anything but the feel of his skin against hers. His voice, chiding, seemed to come from miles away. "What were you doing out there? You could have been killed."
Oh God. He had a voice like Sean Connery, deep enough to curl her toes, and with a strong hint of a burr to it. Maybe Irish, rather than Scots. She was no expert. One way or the other, the situation was hopeless. She was lost. She wanted, needed to feel his hands on her skin, his body over hers, his cock buried deep in her needy cunt. And she was supposed to make small talk? "Part of the job," she mumbled. "Too many trees down. Tried to go back, but the water's too deep."
Her lips were moving, answering his questions, but the words had no meaning. It was Pat's fault. Ever since her best friend had linked the Purity Test on line the questions had been there, nagging at her.
Have you ever had sex on the first date? Had sex with someone whose name you did not know? Had sex with someone whose face you never saw? Had sex with someone where there was an age difference of more than 20 years?
No. Not her. She hadn't done anything. Ever. She was a good girl. The world was black and white. Good and bad. Right and wrong. What she was thinking about was wrong. Totally and completely wrong. And the idea made her hotter than she could ever remember being. His hands were on her again. He had the most exquisite hands. Large, strong, capable hands that would feel so perfect against her bare skin, riding the curves of her breasts, parting the folds of her pussy. Surely she was reading too much into that touch. He couldn't know what he was doing to her. She was going to combust.
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