An Old Fashioned Romance

From Saphyre Snow by Marcia Lynn McClure

“It amuses me that I should hang for stealing your first kiss, having done such a miserable job of it,” he chuckled. He continued to grin and Saphyre felt the odd, delightful tingle of gooseflesh breaking over her body as he tipped his head to one side. He seemed to be considering her as one of his thumbs traveled lightly over her lips.

“I suppose,” he continued, “if I’m bound to hang for it…or be axed…I may as well attempt to make amends for mucking it up so completely the first time.” Saphyre felt the rhythm of her breathing hasten, for his gaze now lingered on her mouth. Instinctively her gaze was drawn to his, to the perfect shape and curve of his lips, to his tongue as he moistened them.

“It…it is the most ridiculous of laws,” Saphyre whispered. “You…you know I would not let them hang you for it.”

He smiled at her again and whispered, “I will hang for it, Saphyre Snow. One way or the other.”

She watched as his head descended toward hers, watched until his face was so close she was forced to close her eyes for the nearness of it. She tried to breathe as she felt his hand move to her shoulder and come to rest on the bareness of it where her frock had once been torn by his own hands. She tried to breathe as his cheek caressed her own a long moment before she felt the moisture of his kiss on her neck just below her earlobe.

Silently she begged, “Kiss me! Kiss me! Oh, kiss me, now!” So strongly did her mind will it, she feared she might actually utter the very words aloud, but she did not. Even as his hands slid beneath her arms, pressing her ribs as they traveled to her back, pulling her body flush with his, her mind begged for the sense of his lips pressed to hers.

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