Page 21 of A Snowed in Valentine's

“I… I’m still cold. I don’t think the fire is working.”

“Give it some time,” he replied as passively as he could. “You’ve been cold for a while.”

For the next few seconds, all he heard was the crackling of the flames. “Do you think I could have a blanket or something?”

“I don’t have one.” A thought crept into his mind just then. It was a ridiculous thought. Before he could let reason stop him, he walked back to her and stretched out on the floor next to her.

“What the heck are you doing?” she asked.

“You need warmth,” he said simply. “I’m a little warm.”

He took her silence to mean agreement. They lay side by side now, August staring up at the rafters, painfully aware of his body grazing hers. He tried to steady his breath, hoping she couldn’t feel his pulse racing.

Remember,he told himself,she’s a witch.

He forgot the reminder as soon as it entered his mind.

This close, even without looking right at her, he registered nearly every detail about her: her sharp breaths, the rise and fall of her breasts in the corner of his vision, the way the warmth of the flames combined with her scent and filled his nostrils.

He shifted slightly and found himself pressed even harder against her body.

He heard her gasp.

“Come here,” he growled without thinking, and he reached around her, pulling her body closer to his.

She was pliant against him, her breasts now crushed to his chest. The softness of her body jerked him to instant awarenessof the hardness of his own. His heart and mind continued to race, and the feel of her body nestled snugly against his had caused a stirring in his loins. His arousal throbbed against her groin, and her sudden intake of breath told him she could feel it.

Daphne made no move to extricate herself from their newly joined position. He could feel her heart thudding against his chest, her breath against his ear. August kept his gaze on the rafters above, aware of her nipples hardening through her clothes. His hand rested possessively on her left thigh, creeping up lazily by the second. Her breathing quickened, turning ragged just as he did.

Damnit.

He shifted then, and she gave a tiny moan as his erection rubbed against her groin. The sound broke through his self-restraint like a stone hammer. He grabbed her hips, one hand sliding under her clothes just as he turned his head. Their lips joined immediately. Hers were just as soft as he remembered. Another sound rose in her throat, and he hesitated, fearing it was a cry of protest, but as she continued to kiss him, he kissed her back with renewed fervor.

The hand underneath her clothes slid up the length of her back, caressing her skin the way he had dreamt so many nights. He pushed up her sweater, half wondering if she would object to him taking off her clothes, and slipped his hand underneath her bra to cup her breast. She sighed into the kiss as he kneaded her, shifting to give him better access, and he teased her distended nipple between his fingers.

Oh, how he longed to suckle those breasts. A fresh desire surged inside him, and it cost him the remainder of his self-restraint to keep from pushing up her sweater and taking those rock-hard nipples between his teeth. Against him, she felt deliciously warm, and the thought of how much warmer she would feel further down crossed his mind.

She lifted a hand to cup his face. August knew without opening his eyes that it was the hand with the Kane insignia on it. The realization filled his chest with a warmth like the sun. Right now, the insignia on her wrist was more than a magical bind. It was at this moment his mark, a mark that joined them, a sign that she was his.

As they continued to kiss, he slid his hand down her torso, slipping it into her trousers and brushing the front of her panties. His fingers settled between her legs, finding her warmest spot, and he nearly let out a gasp of his own. He could feel her wetness through her panties. He rubbed her gently, and she moaned into the kiss, grinding against his thumb.

His mind wandered ahead of the rest of his body, spinning a scene in which he dispensed with her clothing and caressed her inner thighs with his mouth, nipping her tender flesh as she arched and moaned and raked her fingers through his hair to keep him down there, right where he wanted most to be right now.

The thought of ripping her clothes off, down to the last stitch, grew stronger, as did their kisses. His arousal strained desperately against his clothing. He wanted her naked under him; her legs parted to reveal her warm, wet spot to him. He wanted his fingers inside her, exploring her. Who was he kidding? He wanted her clenched around his cock. He wanted—

No!

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he pulled away from her, unable to believe what he’d almost done. Next to him, Daphne stiffened, and he could tell she was thinking the same thing.

“I should go,” he muttered.

He climbed to his feet, his erection still visible through his trousers, much to his embarrassment, and headed for the bedroom, grateful to be able to put some distance between them.Alone, without her next to him to cloud his mind with desire, he could think a bit more clearly. And that was what he needed right now.

He despised this woman. She was a witch, one of the people he’d devoted his life to killing.

Yet he’d fed her and given her a place to sleep despite the problem she’d plunged them both into.

And just moments ago.… he’d practically thrown himself at her. What the hell had he been thinking?

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