Blazing Midsummer Nights. Leslie Kelly

that I could wait, because, by the time the night was over, you’d be mine.”

      “Good Lord,” she whispered, her eyes falling closed. Her feet shifted; she edged a tiny bit closer, feeling almost mesmerized by his throaty voice. Not to mention by the faint brush of his hand on her mouth. “Really?”

      “Oh, yeah,” he said. That hand moved, until he was cupping her head, his fingers tangling in her loose hair. She arched her face into his palm, unable to resist, turning to him the way a flower turned to the morning sun. “If I had been crazy enough to let you go inside without me, I would have been watching your door, counting down the seconds until you got back. And you can bet your last dollar I would have done something about it if some strange, shirtless dude walked through it after you.”

      His words held an accusation, but she was too stunned by the feelings rolling through her to launch any kind of defense of Dimitri. Right now, she was finding it hard to concentrate on anything except his scent and his warmth and oh, heavens, the way he was stroking her cheekbone with the side of his thumb.

      She opened her eyes, staring at him, realizing she’d already memorized his face, his eyes, his mouth. This stranger was already imprinted on her brain.

      “What would you have done?” she whispered. She leaned closer, her body swaying almost against her own will.

      “I would have made sure you knew who you were ending the night with.” He moved closer, inching toward her. “I would have made you forget any other man existed.”

      Another inch, then he did it. He covered her mouth with his and made her forget every other man existed.

      Shocked at first, Mimi froze for a second, then melted under an onslaught of pure fire. He licked her lips, demanding she part them, and she did, not questioning it. Their tongues met, exploring, hot and wet and hungry. There was nothing polite about this kiss, nothing rehearsed or restrained. He didn’t delicately taste her; he devoured her, as if he hadn’t eaten in a week and she was his ultimate dessert.

      Time, space and reality were lost. Mimi was riding a wave of pure, sultry instinct, every one of her senses humming, all of her nerve endings jangling against his big, rock-hard body. The air she breathed, he provided. She stayed upright only because she had him to lean against. Every delicious flavor she’d ever tasted seemed concentrated in his mouth and she started to shake as they all flooded into her.

      Even as a tiny voice inside her tried to remind her he was a stranger, and that she should stop this, she lifted her arms, twining them around his neck. Tangling her fingers in his dark hair, she held on tight, instinctively wanting to make sure he didn’t go anywhere. Not before he satisfied this deep, carnal urge she had to be kissed the way every woman ought to be kissed every so often—like she was the sustenance for a man’s very soul.

      Nobody had kissed her like this. Not ever. Not even men who’d been buried inside her at the time.

      “Xander,” she groaned against his mouth when he started to pull away.

      Hearing his name on her lips seemed to inflame him, because he dove back in again, his tongue plunging deep. He dropped his hands to her hips, claiming her, tugging her even harder against him. When he cupped her bottom, she sighed into his mouth, arching against the delicious, unmistakable ridge of heat pressing against her groin.

      He wanted her, there was no denying it, and he wasn’t making any effort to keep her from realizing that.

      Quivering, almost crying, Mimi pressed harder against him, needing that strength, that pressure. She barely knew him, but she knew she wanted that power, that thickness. All the long pep talks she’d given to herself about being sensible and not needing this kind of heat, this much passion, evaporated and she knew she would do just about anything to have him.

      And then it ended, just as abruptly as it had begun. He drew his mouth away from hers, dropped his hands and took a step back. Mimi swallowed hard, trying to regain control of her heart and her lungs, which seemed to be grasping for air.

      After a long moment, he nodded. “Yeah, I definitely would have followed you,” he said, sounding a little breathless, which told her he, too, was affected by the kiss. “But that’s me.”

      Reality finally started to sink back in. “What … how … you kissed me.”

      “Glad you noticed.”

      Noticed? Good grief, he’d made the earth rattle beneath her feet.

      He turned away from her. “Now, I should go so you can get back to your party.”

      The floor seemed to lurch, her mind spinning with it. It took a few seconds for her to process the quick change in mood and tone. From flirtatious, to tender to hot-and-kissing? Now to something like … disinterest. What the ever-loving hell?

      He, on the other hand, seemed just fine. His smile was cheery, that twinkle had reappeared in his eyes. As if he was completely unfazed by their closeness and that amazing kiss, which had affected her clear down to her toenails. No, to the polish on her toenails!

      “I guess I’ll go try this key on the other door,” he said, turning back toward the closet. “Maybe I’ll see you later at the party. I told Anna I’d come out.”

      Still stunned, it took her a few seconds to grasp his words. Once her heart started to beat normally and her brain cells were firing again, she realized she did not want him coming out to that party. She didn’t like how easily he’d shown her how receptive she was to him. Especially since she hadn’t yet determined whether or not she was receptive to her date, who was waiting for her outside.

      But it wasn’t exactly polite to order him to stay home until he forgot he’d seen her curl-covered hoo-ha. Or until she’d gotten over that kiss.

      “By the way, what’d you decide?” he asked as he ducked into the closet.

      “About what?”

      He waggled his brows. “The thong? A nice bustier’s always a good choice.”

      Glaring, she reached for the vase.

      “Kidding,” he said, raising a defensive hand. With a smile that was positively wicked, he added, “Because you’re not gonna go through with it.”

      “Says who?”

      “Says the guy who just kissed you … the one you kissed back.”

      He definitely had her there; she didn’t really have a response for that.

      He dropped his attention to her lips, then looked down at her body, her thin robe, her nipples puckering beneath the fabric. He raked his way down the rest of her, to the tips of her toes, before going back up. Then, his voice dropped to a low growl. “Says the guy who loved how you looked in that thong and who really hopes to see it again sometime … caught between something other than your toes.”

      She gulped, swallowing down a tiny, helpless moan. Because while she had never been the kind of woman who wanted a man to take her for granted, his self-confidence, his certainty of her—what she wanted, how far she’d go—was an incredible turn-on.

      With one more smile, he disappeared into her closet. She heard a thump or two as he worked his way back toward the door. Right before he exited, she heard one more thing—his laughing voice.

      “By the way, in case you want to know my preference, I vote for commando!”