Break out the Chapstick and Mentos – it’s kissing scene time! Here’ s my entry in the Kissing Scene Competition, hosted by Cupid’s Literary Connection. The following is an excerpt from my paranormal romance, To Catch A Fetch.
A little background info to set the scene: Devyn Cartwright has been hired to do a photographic essay on a Victorian estate. With her lust for period homes and furniture, Devyn should be in heaven…but her lust for the home’s caretaker, Ronan Evans, is putting her through hell. Devyn tells herself Ronan is off-limits, and struggles to keep their relationship professional, going so far as to make a list of all the reasons why getting involved with Ronan would be a bad idea. But both Devyn’s reasons and her sense fly out the antique window when Ronan corners her and demands to know how she really feels about him.
“Devyn. Open your eyes and look at me. Please.”
She lifted her lashes, unable to resist the soft plea. His dark eyes searched her face for a moment. Then he smiled. A wicked, sexy, sinful smile that lit Devyn’s “Top Ten Reasons Why I Should Not Get Involved With Ronan” list on fire and left it in a pathetic pile of fluttering ashes.
“You want me, don’t you?”
Idiot man, he’s only figuring this out now? Devyn nodded. She wasn’t fooling him, and she certainly wasn’t fooling herself, so who was left to fool by denying the truth?
His smile widened at her assent, a hint of masculine satisfaction creasing the corners of his mouth. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding me, isn’t it.”
It wasn’t a question, but she nodded again anyway.
“Sweet, sexy, silly female,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Don’t you know what’s happening between us,” he paused and brushed his mouth against hers in a touch so feather-light, it barely registered as a kiss, “is unavoidable?”
Devyn whimpered at the feel of his mouth on hers. His words sank into her, loosening the knots she had tied around her emotions.
Ronan slid his hands around her waist, the rough, bare skin of his palms a shock of heat against her naked back as he lifted the hem of her shirt. For the space of a heartbeat, he rested his thumbs in the sensitive dip at the base of her spine. Then his fingers slipped lower, gliding over her lace covered bottom. He cupped her with his big strong hands and lifted her so she pressed against him, her lips on level with his.
This time there was no mistaking the pressure of his lips. Ronan’s tongue, hot and sure in her mouth, burned a path of need through her like a shot of whiskey. The taste of him flooded her veins and buckled her knees.
Devyn gripped Ronan’s shoulders for support. Drunk on desire, she broke the kiss to whisper the one coherent thought her mind could conjure.
“More.”
Melonie Johnson 