Page 167 of Once an Angel
He crept nearer. Her cheek was pillowed on folded hands. Her breasts rose and fell gently with each breath. Justin's dazed mind absorbed details with dizzying lucidity: a cherub's face—a dash of freckles across the bridge of a snub nose, a rosebud mouth, lashes of stubby velvet, an unruly mass of chestnut curls. Before he could stop it, his gaze drifted lower, where a nest of darker curls glistened with sea
drops. His toes curled into the wet sand.
The sun had kissed her face and arms, but the rest of her was polished to creamy pearl. Sand sparkled against her skin like ground diamonds. Luminous coral tipped her breasts. He was tempted to look
around for the giant shell that must have birthed her.
His gaze flicked upward to the mocking wink of the stars. "For me?" he whispered.
He sank down cross-legged in the sand beside her. He ought to be rousing her, checking her for injuries, covering her. But he had worn only his tattered dungarees. Even with the best of intentions, one of them was going to be naked. And he wasn't yet sure his intentions were the best.
He rested his chin on steepled ringers, unable to drag his gaze away from the rosy little nymph. He couldn't fathom the effect she had on him. He felt as if someone had punched him low in the gut,
driving out all the breath with one blow. His rising desire was a foreign heat that bore no relation to
the rare fumble in the dark he might share with some generous Maori woman or Auckland whore.
He felt he might sit forever, afraid of not touching her, more afraid of touching her, locked in her strange spell until someone dragged him away. The breeze whispered encouragement even as the waves chanted a warning. They might have been the only two alive. For the first time Justin understood Zeus's temptation to turn himself into a swan to mate with Leda in the forest. He knew the hunger of the fierce knight Huldbrand groaning for the siren song of his sea witch Undine.
A primitive enchantment beckoned him. It had nothing to do with the civilized constraints of his time,
but hearkened back to another era, when a man had knelt between a woman's thighs with no need for polite small-talk to woo her heart.
Justin buried his face in his hands. Sweet Lord, his morals were becoming as muddled as his dreams. Perhaps he should return to England, where he wouldn't be tempted to ravish a girl just because she'd
had the ill luck to wash up naked on his beach.
He shoved his hands through his hair, determined to take some action. He would have to carry her back to the hut. Unless he wanted to drag her by the hair, that would mean touching her.
He sat up on his knees. The feathery fingers of his shadow fell over her, brushing all the plump swells
and lush hollows his hands burned to touch. Dragging in a breath that was more a groan, he eased an
arm beneath her shoulders. The coral petals of her mouth parted in sleepy surrender. Justin's tongue darted out to moisten his lips.
What could one kiss hurt? Even Sleeping Beauty's prince had stolen that much. He leaned forward,
taking painstaking care that no less-principled part of his body should meet with hers. He touched her mouth softly with his own. Her lips were salty-sweet. Justin licked the salt away, glazing her lips with liquid moonlight. He couldn't remember the last time he had kissed a woman. His head reeled. Only minutes ago he had been walking alone on the beach. Now he was kissing a goddess.
A mistake. As her lips parted beneath the subtle, hungry pressure of his own, Justin knew kissing her
had been a terrible mistake. But it was too late to extricate himself. He could only slide his tongue between her parted lips, making hot, slippery love to her mouth with all the tender ferocity his body craved. Her taste was magic and he couldn't have pulled himself away if she had wrapped her legs
around him and dragged him to her kingdom deep beneath the sea.
He buried his face in her damp curls. The faintest aroma of vanilla clung to her hair, rendered erotic by
its very purity. Just one touch, he promised himself. Just to rake his fingers across her sand-sugared skin, to cup the gentle swell of her breast in his palm . . .
He was already reaching for her when the husky whisper came, so close to his ear it had the intimacy
of his own thoughts. "I stabbed the last man who stuck his tongue in my mouth."
Justin slowly lifted his head. He hung there, caught dead in the sights of her sparkling brown eyes.
"What's wrong? I didn't swallow it, did I?" Her pert nose crinkled as she laughed. Justin thought it was
the most endearing thing he had ever seen.
