Slow Summer Burn: A Loveswept Contemporary Romance by Elisabeth Barrett

body.
    This was it. The very thing she’d been missing all her life. Passion .
    She closed her eyes, determined to finally seize that which had never been within her grasp. She welcomed his arms as they folded around her, holding her captive, and then she felt it—a warm flush spreading across her cheeks, down her neck, and over the swell of her breasts. The flush turned into heat. The heat turned into fire. And the fire crept down her belly, lower, lower …
    She gasped, and Val took that as an invitation to open her lips with his own. Willingly, she followed where he led. And she’d thought dancing with him had made her hot! Now, she was officially aflame.
    He plundered the wet depths of her mouth as if it were his right, his experience evident with every flick of his warm tongue on hers. She craved more but couldn’t figure out how to tell him. One hand slid up the front of his open jacket and clutched the fabric of his shirt.
    Hard muscles rippled under her fingers as he simply pulled her closer, his strong body enveloping hers as the rain fell hard onto the street and the awning—a roar of water echoing the sound of the blood rushing in her ears.
    And as she reached for more, opened more fully to let him in, pressed against the length of him, she couldn’t help herself. She barely knew the man, had hardly even spoken to him, let alone considered kissing him. The liberties they were now taking were salacious. Shocking.
    Sexy .
    A novel prospect for her. If she’d known this was how she was going to feel, would she have declined his invitation to dance?
    Deep in her bones, she knew the answer was no. From the moment she’d seen him— really seen him—she’d known he’d be like this.
    When he used one of those big hands to gently cup her cheek, her breath hitched again. She was cognizant of his lips moving from her mouth to her neck, just below her ear. When he kissed her there, she shivered.
    “You taste just like I thought you would, Cameron. Sweet.”
    “Thank you,” she responded automatically, still in a haze.
    “Always so polite,” he muttered, slowly pulling away. She opened her eyes. He was watching her with a studied, guarded expression.
    “You make that sound like a bad thing. Should I apologize?”
    “No. You are who you are.” For a moment, something flashed behind his gaze—regret, perhaps? Then he blinked and it was gone, replaced with his usual hawkish look. “Dinner with me on Thursday night. I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty.”
    And then he was gone, back into the rain, his booted feet kicking up a splatter of raindrops as he swiftly ran through the downpour. She watched until he turned the corner. Her lips still tingled from where they’d touched his.
    You are who you are . What did that even mean?
    He seemed like he’d wanted to kiss her, to touch her, to hold her. He’d even asked—no, demanded—that she go out on a date with him. So why did he seem sorry about it?
    Most guys would be thrilled to take her out. Of course, most guys who bothered to ask her out had already been hand-selected by her mother. Cameron sighed deeply. Val was the first man not of her family’s choosing to ask her out in as long as she could remember. But why should he feel remorse about it? He’d been such a gentleman, escorting her back to her shop, and then he’d kissed her with such heat …
    Mixed messages didn’t sit well with her, but she didn’t have time to think about that now. She had so much work to do she could barely see straight. With a clear head, she vowed to concentrate on what she needed to do.
    And to keep a dangerous man with wary eyes out of her mind.
    What the hell was he thinking? He’d just kissed Cameron Stahl—taken what he wanted without asking. And she’d been so damned courteous about it, those big violet eyes gazing at him as if he’d done her a favor. He sprinted down Morse Avenue, trying not to overthink what had just happened.
    He’d kissed her. And she’d