A Rare Gift by Jaci Burton

screwed-up notion that we’re one and the same.”
    He looked her up and down, his gaze raking over her body. “Calliope, you are nothing like Cassandra. Not in appearance, not in actions, not in any way.”
    She knew how he felt about Cassie. It wasn’t an insult.
    “So you’ve given up trying to compare me to my sister.”
    He held up his hands. “Throwing the white flag on that one. You win.”
    Her lips curved. “I don’t know about that, Wyatt. Seems to me we both win. So why not take what you want—what we both want—and quit fighting it?”
    Her heart pounded as she stood in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips. Only a few feet of distance separated them, but she wasn’t going to cross that distance. If he wanted her—and she knew damn well he did—he was going to have to bridge the gap.
    He stared her down. He was mad, whether at her or himself she didn’t know. Frankly, she didn’t care. It was now or never because she wouldn’t ask him again.
    He came to her in two fast strides and jerked her into his arms.
    And then he hesitated, his lips just inches from hers.
    Don’t walk away. Not again.
    His gaze bored into hers and she nearly melted to the floorboards. She knew from the smoldering look in his eyes that he wasn’t walking away this time. When his mouth came down on hers, the first contact of his lips stole her breath.
    She went up in flames and her body exploded in a wildfire of heat.

Chapter Six
    There was nothing gentle about this kiss. This was no sweet seduction. It was a full-on siege. Wyatt wrapped his arms around her, one hand gravitating to her butt to draw her against his erection. Calliope shuddered at the feel of him, so hard and ready as he plundered her lips. He slid his tongue inside and she moaned, arched against him, slid her hand in his hair and held on while his tongue played with hers.
    She was lightheaded as sensations pounded at her. The softness of his lips warred with the scrape of his beard against her face and the steely hardness of his body as he moved against her. And when he cupped her breast, his thumb brushing her nipple, she whimpered at the sheer pleasure of it.
    He pulled his mouth from hers, his eyes dark and full of hunger.
    “Say no.”
    She blinked. “What?”
    “Tell me to go.”
    “No.”
    He backed away. She grabbed his arms. “That’s not what I meant. Don’t go.”
    He raked his fingers through his hair. “If I don’t leave now, I’m not leaving until morning.”
    She was panting, her breasts painfully full, her sex throbbing with need for him, and he wanted to have this discussion now?
    “That’s the general idea, Wyatt.”
    “If I stay tonight, I’m sleeping in your bed. With you.”
    She resisted the urge to suggest they likely wouldn’t be sleeping much, instead stayed silent, her chest heaving with the force of her breaths. “Can we get back to the kissing part? I really like the way you kiss me.”
    “I just wanted you to be sure.”
    “I’m sure. And thanks. Now kiss me.”
    The smile he gave her was the kind any sane woman would call dangerous. He pulled her glasses off and set them down, put his hand on the nape of her neck and drew her close.
    He hovered, his lips just an inch from hers. “You make me crazy, Calliope.”
    She palmed his chest. “Trust me. The feeling is mutual.”
    And then their lips touched again, and it was like a burst of fireworks. Wow, he really could kiss. Wyatt was formidable, no doubt about that. Her toes curled, her legs felt like jelly, and she was damn glad he had all that muscle in his frame to hold her up, because she sank against him, sighing against his lips as he overpowered her with his sheer masculinity. She breathed him in, the scent of outdoors, brandy and beer mingling together.
    When he lifted her in his arms—and she was no lightweight—she felt small and feminine, and decided she liked that sensation.
    He moved down the hall and bent to open her bedroom door, found the