The Lost Sheenan's Bride (Taming of the Sheenans Book 6) by Jane Porter Page B

fool. And not just a fool, but a liar. A cheat. A scoundrel. She was right on all accounts. “How’s your heart doing now?”
    She smiled faintly. “Still a little banged up. But better. Stronger.”
    “Good.” It was all he could do not to keep his hands to himself. He wanted to kiss her badly. He was hard and hungry and restless in a way he hadn’t been for a very long time.
    He signaled to the waiter. The waiter approached quickly. “The check?” he said to Shane.
    “No. The dessert menu.” Shane glanced at Jet. “Feel like dessert?” he asked, wanting her to say yes, if only to keep her in a public place, out of arm’s reach and relatively safe.
    “Not really,” she answered. “Not unless you want something.”
    He did want something. But it wasn’t on the menu. “Check is fine,” he told the waiter, blood thrumming through his veins. He was so hard he was uncomfortable, his jeans now far too tight.
    Outside, he walked her to his rented car. He unlocked the passenger side door for her and swung it open but before she could climb in, he reached for her, one hand cupping her cheek, lifting her face to his. His head dropped and his mouth brushed hers, once, and then again. Teasing. Tasting.
    She was wearing a light floral scented fragrance that made him think of spring just before it turned to summer, and he breathed her in…lilacs…gardenias…something delicate and fresh…
    She tasted just as fresh and sweet. He wanted more. Shane deepened the kiss, the pressure of his mouth parting her lips ever so slightly. He stroked the seam of her lips and her mouth parted wider. She gave a little sigh of pleasure as his tongue explored her mouth and he pulled her closer, an arm low on her waist, his hand in the small of her back. They were standing between patches of dirt and ice-crusted snow and yet the night blazed, hot and bright.
    He held her against him, a hand tangling in her thick, glossy hair. His kiss drank her in. Her taste was intoxicating…addictive. He couldn’t remember when he last wanted anyone this much.
    When he finally lifted his head, she was clinging to the lapel of his coat, her blue eyes cloudy, expression dazed. “Um, wow,” she whispered, dropping her hands to bury them in her coat pockets. She took a step back. “Not bad. Apparently you’re quite good at a couple things.”
    That kiss.
    Wow. Just uh, wow.
    It’d been five minutes since he’d kissed her, at least five minutes, as they’d left Livingston behind and were traveling south on 89, back to Marietta.
    And yet her lips still tingled. Her whole body tingled. Every little nerve seemed to be awake and dancing.
    Maybe the kiss wasn’t really that good.
    Maybe it just seemed that good because it had been ten months since she’d last kissed anyone.
    Maybe Ben was a lousy kisser and she’d forgotten that kissing could light her up like a Christmas tree.
    Or maybe Shane was just damn good.
    “You’re awfully quiet,” Shane said, breaking the silence.
    “I was just trying to figure something out.”
    He shot her a swift glance. “And what would that be?”
    She shouldn’t say it. She shouldn’t. “Are you that good of a kisser, or was Ben just bad?”
    For a long minute Shane didn’t say anything and her question just hung in the air between them. And then his hard jaw eased, and he smiled at her, the smile knowing, and more than a little wicked. “I’m just really good.”
    She didn’t know if it was his smile or his words but she went hot all over, so hot it was like jumping into a boiling pot. “That’s pretty confident.”
    His lips quirked. “Or honest.”
    She looked at him, her gaze sweeping from the top of his dark head to the length of his sinewy thighs. The man was seriously appealing. “Girls must just fall at your feet.”
    He didn’t answer right away. “I don’t have a problem meeting women, no.”
    “So what are your rules when you date?” She saw the lift of his brow and hurriedly added,