by Romy Sommer
“I could wash the blood out of your T-shirt for you, if you like.”
He looked at her for a few silent, assessing seconds, then handed her his glass to hold. “I’d like that very much.”
Seraphine’s breath caught in her throat as he reached for the hem of his faded T-shirt and peeled it unhurriedly over his head.
Christ. The way his clothes clung to his body had hinted he was in good condition, but bare-chested in the firelight, he was beyond that. He was beautiful.
She handed back his glass, and he drank deeply. She refilled them both, and moved a little closer as she settled back down.
“You’re a definite improvement on Harold Mahoney.” Isaac reached out and worked her hair free of its band with gentle fingers. She closed her eyes for a second and enjoyed the pleasurable pressure of his fingers as he massaged the back of her neck.
“I don’t do things like this, Isaac.” She turned her face and touched her lips against the pulse point on his wrist.
“Good. Me neither.” He stroked the back of his fingers along her jaw. “So, you’re a vet, huh?”
She nodded, trying not to be distracted as he smoothed her hair behind her ear and rubbed the lobe slowly between his thumb and forefinger.
“I like healing things.” She swallowed a good glug of champagne and glanced at the cat, knowing she had work to do there. “And you’re a fireman, huh?”
“I like saving things.” He looked at the cat too, but the expression on his face was far less charitable. “Aren’t we just a regular pair of super heroes? The good people of Coombethwaite can sleep safer in their beds tonight.”
“Will you sleep with me in my bed tonight, Isaac?” Seraphine heard the vulnerability in her own voice.
He tugged on her belt gently in answer, drawing her against him.
“Are you sure?” His eyes searched hers, and then his lashes swept down as he dipped his head to kiss her. He tasted of champagne and smelled of warm spice, and his kiss melted every rational thought in her head. His fingers cradled her jaw as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, sliding up the scale from sensual to erotic to knee-trembling as his tongue moved languidly over hers. Seraphine let her hands explore the contours of his chest, firm and warmed by the fire. His nipples stiffened beneath her palms, and he groaned and sank his teeth into the softness of her lower lip when her fingers skimmed his belt buckle.
“Strictly speaking, it’s your turn to take something off.” He nibbled along her lip, a tiny line of sensual bites.
“But I’m naked under my robe.”
He pulled his head back a fraction and raised his eyebrows. “I think I love you.”
“Aah, but will you respect me in the morning?”
“Yes. Take your robe off.”
Seraphine paused for a second. It wasn’t nerves. Something about Isaac felt too entirely right for nerves to have any place in the tiny living room. It was a desire to go slow, because you can only have your first time with someone once.
“Take it off for me?”
He laughed softly and pushed his hand through his hair, then placed both of their glasses down on the coffee table.
“Seraphine.”
It was the first time he’d said her name, and no one else in her life had come close to saying it in such a sexy way before.
He reached for her belt and worked the knot open.
Seraphine felt it loosen, but Isaac didn’t rush to remove it. Maybe he took it easy for her benefit, or perhaps he yearned to make the moment last, too. Either way, she wanted him all the more fiercely for it.
She took a deep breath, and shrugged the robe off her shoulders, clutching it loosely with one hand to prevent it from sliding down altogether.
Isaac leaned in close and kissed her shoulder, then trailed his warm mouth across her collarbone. He paused to pay special attention to the sensitive hollow at the base of her throat, then drifted across to kiss her other shoulder. At the same time his hand moved to cover hers, and he unfurled her grip on the robe and let it fall.
She saw the way he swallowed hard, and admired him for looking up into her eyes rather than down at her bared breasts.
“It feels more like my birthday than yours,” he murmured, sliding his hand around the back of her neck and pulling her in until her breasts brushed against the solid wall of his chest. A tiny sigh of pleasure bubbled in Seraphine’s throat, and her nipples hardened in reaction to his nearness.
“No…” She gasped a little as his hands moved up to cup the fullness of her breasts. “You’re definitely the best birthday present I’ve ever had.”
His thumbs circled her nipples as he laughed softly into her mouth. “Consider the cat my gift to you.”
Seraphine’s fingers moved to stroke the peach soft, faded denim that covered his straining crotch. “I don’t know. I think you may have something else I’d like.”
Never in her entire life had she been so brazen, but then never in her entire life had she been so turned on, either.
Isaac let her get as far as opening his belt and popping his top button before he caught her wrist. “Come here.” He pulled her onto his lap, leaving the robe behind her on the sofa. This time he didn’t hesitate about looking at her body. His gaze moved hungrily over every inch of her, and she let him take his fill. When he finally lifted his eyes to hers again, lust had darkened them from milk chocolate to black coffee, and the expression in them told her how much he liked what he saw.
“I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you, Seraphine.”
His words were shot through with sincerity, and Sophie nestled into his lap. She could feel his very physical confirmation of her effect on him, but something else drew her attention, too. A heat only she’d be able to detect radiated from his thigh, the kind of heat that innately warned her of injury, or pain. Something had happened to this man, something that had caused him great distress. Tuning into him, she detected a deep ache, both in his body and his heart. Isaac was walking wounded, just as she was, and in that moment she wanted only to take those feelings away for him. For both of them.
When he bent his head to the swell of her breasts and drew first one pebble-hard nub and then the other into his mouth, something inside Seraphine snapped. She went from wanting to take it slow to wanting him desperately, to being drenched in desire for him. She straddled his hips, and moaned with appreciation when his hands swept down her spine to caress her bottom.
Isaac responded to her increase in tempo like-for-like. His mouth and hands were everywhere, and she hollowed her spine and arched against his chest when he finally gave her what she needed. His sure, sensitive touch between her legs made her body clench and her breath catch in her throat, and he kissed her through it as he stroked her towards orgasm. His tongue slid into her mouth, and Seraphine reached for her robe, remembering the packet she’d rescued from the first aid box earlier.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered, as his deft fingers made her all but yelp.
“There’s a condom in the pocket of my robe.”
She felt low laughter rumble through his chest as he found the foil wrapper.
“Will you marry me, Seraphine?”
“That depends.” She unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, and he managed to free himself from all of his clothing within seconds.
“On what?” he breathed heavily as Seraphine’s hand encircled his rigid erection.
She rested her forehead on his. “Love me, love my cat.”
He paused for a second. “It’s a big ask. He’s a brute.”
Seraphine smiled, then gasped, suddenly unable to speak as he touched her in a way that was beyond erotic. “Isaac…” she breathed, letting him know how close he had her.
“I know, baby,” he gentled her with his mouth and his words before he ripped the foil packet with his teeth and sheathed himself.
Seraphine sensed that this position was good for him, and loved that she could give him pleasure without causing him pain. She h
eld her breath as he positioned himself, and closed her eyes as she sank down onto every heavenly inch of him.
His eyelids were half closed with lust when she opened hers again, and he blew out a low, shaky breath of pleasure as she began to move slowly on him. His hands encircled her waist, his thumbs massaging her rib cage as his eyes roved over her breasts.
“Much as I’d like it to, this isn’t going to last long,” he breathed, and as he put his hand between her thighs Seraphine’s body responded to his warning. She clung to Isaac’s broad shoulders and surrendered to the sensations that wracked her body, holding him tight as his release roared out of him too. They were connected. Physically. Cerebrally. Completely.
Chapter Four
“Wow.” Seraphine loosened her vice-like grip on Isaac’s shoulders.
“Back atcha, lady.” His hands stroked her as her breathing slowly returned to somewhere approaching normal. “I’ll upgrade you to a ten for your bedside manner.”
She smiled into his neck. “Stay with me tonight?”
“As long as you can promise the cat won’t kill me.”
Seraphine eyed the sleeping, black fur ball. “I think you’re safe.” She climbed off Isaac’s lap and reached for her robe. He eased himself to the edge of the sofa and placed a slow, tender kiss against her hipbone.
“Happy Birthday, Seraphine.”
She smoothed a hand over the silk of his dark hair, then wrapped her arms around him as he stood. His arms cocooned her, a warm circle every bit as powerful as the votive circles her mother lived her life by.
“Go on upstairs,” she murmured. “I’ll lock up and be right there.”
In the kitchen, Seraphine placed the glasses in the sink and reached down to fuss the cat’s head when he followed her in search of food. As she placed a saucer of chicken on the floor, he eyed it with disdain and jumped up onto the kitchen table and meowed loudly. Seraphine frowned. She’d owned enough cats over the years to know that chicken should be a sure-fire hit. She looked at him quizzically, and as she did so, she noticed the envelope beneath his paw.
It had arrived yesterday, and she’d recognized her mother’s bright cerise fountain pen ink instantly. She’d intended to open it earlier, but Isaac had well and truly sidetracked her. A glance at the clock confirmed it was still her birthday, just. She eased the envelope from beneath the cat’s paw and ripped it open.
Job done, the big black kitty jumped down instantly and crossed to his bowl to wolf down the chicken.
#
Seraphine opened the kitchen door with the envelope in her hand, and stepped outside for a second to drink in the clear, cold night and the glittering stars that hung over Coombe Mountain. Everything was still, and a sparkle of frost had decorated the garden, a last unexpected birthday gift from Mother Nature. Opening the birthday card, a tiny dark curl of hair tied with a red ribbon tumbled out into her palm.
‘Your first curl, my darling! I cast the twenty-eight day spell on it just for you, I don’t like to think of you alone up there in the wilds on your Birthday!
Call me soon, love Mum xx’
Seraphine laughed softly and shook her head. Who knew if her own spell had conjured Isaac, or if her mother’s spell had?
For a girl who’d turned her back on magic, it had been a bewitching evening of black cats, magic spells, and birthday wishes that really did come true.
Seraphine tipped a wink at Venus as she stepped back inside the cottage and locked the door. There was a fireman in her bedroom, and she was feeling distinctly hot and bothered…
About the author:
Jodie James is a self-confessed romance junkie, daydreamer and champion wine drinker. She lives in the UK with her husband, two young sons, and possibly the oldest cat in the world.
Jodie loves to read and write romantic comedy, and her first book, Undertaking Love, is out in March 2013 from HarperCollins.
You can find Jodie on twitter @jodiejames_, or via her blog www.jodie-james.blogspot.co.uk
Lighting Love’s Spark
Sally Clements
Kindle Edition. Copyright © 2012 Sally Clements
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http://sallyclements.blogspot.com/
Chapter One
Give me a reason not to kill you.
Annabel Jackson smiled, slipped a napkin between the pages and closed her new paperback. There would be time to read after breakfast—letting her sausage sandwich go cold wasn’t an option.
A passing waitress offered a top-up from a glass coffee jug, and Annabel gratefully accepted.
In a few short months, so much had changed. She drank coffee rather than cappuccino, ate sausages for breakfast on Saturday mornings rather than muesli. Best of all, she could indulge in reading the latest WD Daniels without supercilious comments from across the table.
She chewed a mouthful of sausage sandwich, then picked up her book and continued reading. Harper never lied, and something about his cold stare…
“Daddy! That’s her, that’s Teacher!”
As the only teacher from Coombethwaite Primary in Tina’s Café, it was a fair bet that the new arrivals were talking about her. With a quiet sigh, she replaced the napkin between the pages and looked up.
Six-year-old Chloe Walker stood before her table. Long brown plaits hung either side of her slender face, and she wriggled on the spot like an over-excited puppy. Her blue eyes were open as wide as they could possibly be, and her smile cut deep dimples into her cheeks.
“Hi, Teacher.” Chloe tugged on the hand of the tall man she held captive. “Daddy, this is Teacher.”
“Good morning, Chloe.” Annabel resisted the urge to grab the napkin from her book and dab at the corners of her mouth. If she was covered in sauce, so be it. She glanced up. “Good morning, Mr Walker…”
Annabel’s mouth dried at the first glimpse of Chloe’s dad. Tall, dark and handsome sounded such a cliché, but suited her little student’s father to a tee. The touch of Saturday stubble and the faint scar that decorated his cheek added, rather than detracted from his overall appeal.
Annabel swallowed. This was Chloe’s father. Chloe’s mother’s husband or partner, for goodness’ sake. Not available.
She forced her face into a polite smile.
“Hi, Teacher.” His voice was deep.
Not available.
“Oh, call me Annabel.” For the first time, she regretted Coombethwaite School’s policy of introducing themselves by their first names to parents.
“In that case, you must call me Daniel.” Blue eyes exactly the same shade as his little daughter’s looked into hers. His mouth curved into a lazy smile. “I’m glad to meet the teacher that Chloe hasn’t stopped talking about since term started.”
Was it hot in here? Annabel crushed the urge to fan herself. Really, his wife shouldn’t let him out on his own. Predatory women were everywhere—and there were plenty who wouldn’t think twice about responding to the hint of flirtation in his expression. Annabel knew all about them from bitter experience.
No-one would ever accuse her of flirting with some other woman’s man.
“I’m going to get my hair cut!” Chloe said, “I was telling Daddy…”
“She wants her hair cut just like yours.” Daniel lifted one of Chloe’s plaits. “She’s been trying to explain your haircut to me all morning.” The glance he shot at his daughter was full of warmth.
“Just ask for a bob with a fringe.
”
Unlike lots of the children in her class, Chloe wasn’t picked up by either parent at the end of the school day, but instead by an older woman who Chloe had explained was her granny. Presumably her mum was busy this morning too.
“Thanks.” That smile again.
Annabel crossed her legs.
Daniel rubbed the side of his head. “I was worried it would make her look too grown up. I like…”
“Daddy likes my hair in plaits. But every morning when Daddy brushes my hair for school it takes ages, and then I have to wait while he plaits it.” Chloe frowned.
“I think a bob will look lovely on you, Chloe.”
Daniel glanced at his watch. “I better grab my coffee and get out of here if we’re going to make our appointment.” He extended a large tanned hand.
She put her hand into his, feeling warmth tingle from the point of contact as his fingers curved around hers. Under his gaze, the detached distance she’d sought shifted.
“Good to meet you.”
Words dried in her throat. She should say something. Instead, she pulled her hand away and rubbed it on her jeans out of sight under the table, in a vague attempt to stop the tingling his touch had started.
Daniel looked down at the table. His smile widened. “Are you enjoying it?”
For a mad moment, Annabel wondered if he was referring to the electricity sparking between them. She blinked, then followed his gaze.
Her paperback. The latest novel from her favourite crime writer. The writer that her ex-boyfriend had constantly mocked, to her eternal irritation.
And now, another man was grinning at her choice of reading material.
She sat up straighter on the chair. “It’s wonderful. He’s a great writer.”
If there was a hint of chill in her voice, a hint of challenge in the eyes that she focused in his direction, so be it. No-one got to dictate to her what she should or shouldn’t read, or anything else for that matter. Especially if they couldn’t even…