somehow justify; kissing a work of art she could not.
Kiss me.
“No,” she said. “No, no, no.”
Kiss me! Kiss me! Kiss me!
This time, the words pounded through her mind, insistent, intense and demanding. Her gaze moved to the warrior’s immobile lips, and her fingers soon followed, tracing the lush outline. Well, I could kiss him this once, she thought dazedly, but only this once. Twilight offered a shadowy sort of protection, so no one would ever have to know.
That thought provided all the incentive she needed. Carefully, cautiously, Katie closed her eyes and cradled his cheeks in her hands. That invisible force pulled her, hard, and she moved closer, closer still. Then her lips met his. Ribbons of heat and passion and hunger traveled all the way through her, and all of her thoughts tapered to a close except one: This is what a kiss should be like.
Her hands slid from his cheeks and into his thick, silky hair, holding him captive. His lips were softer, warmer, than she imagined, and she lingered far longer than she should have before laying her head upon his shoulder. Her nostrils filled with the clean, male scent of him.
She could almost feel his hands caressing down her back, cupping her butt and guiding her even closer against him. She could almost feel his breath against the curve of her neck and the hot wetness of his tongue as it glided along her collarbone. Could almost feel the slow, rhythmic beat of his heart.
“I truly am insane,” she whispered, but Lord, she liked the feeling. Another breathy sigh slipped past her throat. Crickets began another leisurely tune while fireflies flickered and danced overhead. “If you were real, I’d gobble you up in one tasty bite.”
Then a deep voice whispered next to her ear, “I believe that can be arranged.”
CHAPTER TWO
T HE VOICE WAS pure unadulterated sin, like warm brandy on a cold night, and so suggestively sexual Katie thought she had imagined it, that her fantasy life was hitting a new level. But then she came to realize two startling facts. One, her inner voice had never spoken with a raspy, masculine accent before. And two, the strong, bracing arms she had visualized around her waist were actually there.
Shocked, she snapped to attention…and found herself staring into the most beautiful pair of eyes. Eyes that were pale blue, almost crystalline, and aglow with knowing, wicked promise.
Eyes that belonged to a man, not a statue.
Katie gasped with a combination of disbelief, fascination and mortification. Where was the gray stone? Where was the freaking gray stone?
Breath snagged in her throat, and she squeezed her eyes tightly closed. When she refocused, everything would be back to normal. She was sure of it. She was, after all, a mostly sane person. Yes, she experienced moments of madness—like kissing the statue, for instance—but those moments always passed.
Please, Lord, let this moment pass.
Very slowly, she cracked open her eyelids.
The warrior’s image remained the same: human.
Damn, damn, damn, she thought desperately. How could a flesh-and-blood man with bronzed, completely kissable skin be holding her in his embrace, the heat of his body seeping through her clothes, his heartbeat pounding against her chest? Oh, God, the moon suddenly seemed brighter, the air thicker.
“You’re…you’re…” Mystified, she struggled to form a coherent sentence. There was an explanation for this. She had only to ask. But when she opened her mouth, only one word formed. “How?”
He withdrew his arms from her waist. Looking bewildered, he slowly moved his body this way and that, stretching and twisting each vertebra of his back as if for the very first time. And then—Lord above, he smiled, a devastating smile that revealed even white teeth and sent waves of sexual heat straight to her core.
“I’ve owned this property for two and a half weeks, and I’ve walked through this garden almost every single day. You’ve been right here,