First Kiss Friday Birthday Celebration – Angel’s Assassin by Laurel O’Donnell

For my birthday – which is today – I’m giving away a signed copy of Angel’s Assassin!  To be eligible, you only have to do two things!  1) Leave a comment with your email address.  2) Subscribe to my blog (it’s on the left hand side of this page).  I’ll announce a winner tomorrow!

For your entertainment, here is the first kiss between Damien and Aurora from my medieval romance novel, Angel’s Assassin!  

Angel's Assassin by Laurel O'Donnell

Damien was not to be put off.  A dark intensity burned in his eyes.  He stalked her. 

Aurora continued to move away until her back hit a tree.  She turned to move, but Damien’s arm blocked her path.  She whirled the other way, but his other arm was there, trapping her. 

“Admit it,” he whispered, his voice husky.

Aurora pressed herself back against the tree and lifted her gaze to meet his.

“You liked it,” he coaxed softly, delight shining in his eyes.

“No,” she answered fervently, again turning to flee.

This time, Damien stepped in close.  Their bodies weren’t touching, but he was so close he could feel the heat from her body.  “Liar.”

Aurora shook her head, denying his accusation.

“I’ll prove it.”  His lips were almost touching hers, so close.  “You will lift your lips for me to kiss.”

Aurora shook her head.  She looked away, her eyes darting across his bare chest as if searching for a way of escape. 

Damien bent his arms, bringing his face close to hers.  He moved his lips near her forehead, not touching, but wanting to.  He slowly lowered his mouth down over her cheek to hover over her lips.  He could feel her sweet breath on his lips.  He wanted to taste her, feel her against him.  He was so hard he thought he would explode.  So close to her.

Her lids drooped over her eyes.  “Damien,” she whispered in a shaken voice.

“I know you want to,” he coaxed.  “Let me kiss you.  Lift your lips to me.”

Her mouth was open, her breath coming in shallow gasps.  She lifted her head just slightly but not enough to be a surrender.  Her nose touched his, sending tingles of desire through his body.  It was such an innocent gesture, so tentative.

His lips skimmed hers.  She was so tantalizing.  So breathtaking.  Just a kiss.  One kiss. “Aurora,” he called.

Aurora lifted her eyes to his, lifted her lips to his, giving in to the temptation.

 

First Kiss Friday – The Angel and the Prince by Laurel ODonnell

The Angel and the Prince by Laurel O'Donnell

Here’s the first kiss from my medieval romance novel The Angel and the Prince.

His gaze boldly traveled the length of her body.  The light from the candle made her nightdress virtually transparent, allowing him to absorb every curve.  She watched as his breath became shallow.

She took another step, and another, until she was directly in front of him.  How she wanted him to touch her!  The ghost of a smile crossed her lips at the irony.  She had finally found a man she wanted to touch her – and he was the enemy.  As she looked up into his black eyes, she saw his frown of confusion and irritation.  She wanted to comfort and reassure him.  Ryen reached out a hand, meaning to stroke the wound on his cheek, but Bryce flinched at her touch and drew back.  “I won’t hurt you,” she whispered, realizing the absurdity of the statement as soon as it had left her lips.  The scar that would form on his cheek would be permanent proof of her harm.  She withdrew her hand and took a step away from him.

“What do you want from me?  Why did you summon me here?” Bryce inquired.

She looked away from him and stepped back toward her sleeping mat.  “You are a handsome man.”

He eyed her suspiciously.  “Am I here to discuss my looks?”

Perhaps it was ridiculous, Ryen thought.  Men never seemed to have a problem with taking what, or who, they wanted.  Maybe I’m making this more complicated than it should be.  She raised herself up, straightening her shoulders.  She boldly took a step toward him.  “In a way, yes,” she answered.  She watched the frown etch its way into his brow.  I am not afraid, she told herself, and approached until she stood before him.  He is my prisoner.

“I will tell you nothing,” he snarled.  “Even if you give me more of your poison.”

“I do not want to know anything else.”  Ryen raised a hand to his arm, marveling at the strength and elegance of his muscle.  He clenched his fist and the muscles bunched as she touched them.  The explosive power that moved beneath her fingertips amazed her.  With her heart pounding, Ryen traced her fingers across his upper arm to his chest.

“What do you think you’re doing, woman?” he demanded.

“Your presence has been a…distraction to me.  I sought to cure it.”  She looked up and saw those dark eyes hovering over her.  His black hair washed over his mighty shoulders.  She raised a hand to touch his thick mane.

Bryce pulled back instantly, gazing at her fingertips out of the corner of his eye, searching for the white powder.

Ryen wrapped her fingers tightly in his hair, leaning into his strong chest.  “Do you fear my touch?” she wondered in a soft whisper.

Bryce’s black eyes scanned her face, but Ryen could not read his thoughts.  His dark look lowered over her neck and down to where her chest pressed tightly against his.  She shuddered slightly as if he had touched her there.

Then his eyes rose back to hers.  “Loathe is more like it.”

She felt the lie through his leggings and smiled.  “Your body betrays you.”

“Step away from me, witch,” he snarled.

Ryen never took commands well.  Especially from one of her prisoners.  She stood on the tips of her toes and pressed her lips against his.  At first, they were unmovable, like a rock wall, but suddenly they parted and the hot passion he was trying to hide was released.  His tongue slipped into her mouth, warring with hers.  His face pressed hard and demanding against her own.

Then, with a groan, he ripped his head to the side, away from her lips.

“Do not forget who is the prisoner here,” she purred.  She couldn’t resist the urge to run her hands over his broad chest.  He was like a sculpture carved from pure marble.  There was not a flaw.  As if molding the marble with her own hands, they followed the curve of his torso down to his leggings.  She ran her hands along his clothing.  Is the part covered by his leggings as perfect as the part that is bare? she wondered.  She wanted to see the rest of him, to touch him and marvel at the exquisite details of his rippling muscles.  But she couldn’t.  She drew her hands away.

“Afraid?” he taunted.

The dare was enough.  Her hands moved to his leggings and untied them.  Suddenly she stopped, stepping away from him.  She was trembling all over and she knew it wasn’t from anger.  She raised her eyes to his, searching for something – guidance, anything!

Bryce took a step and he was touching her again.  His black eyes burned into hers.  “Untie me,” he whispered.

 

 

First Kiss Friday – My Dark Rose by Cynthia Owens

Today’s First Kiss Friday featured guest is Cynthia Owens, author of historical romance My Dark Rose.  Welcome back Cynthia!  Here’s the first kiss between Dary Greely and Roisin Donavan.

My Dark RoseShe glared up at him, then followed his glance to the curtained-off portion of the room. She took an instinctive step to block his path. She couldn’t let him see what lay beyond! “I’ll thank you to be mindin’ your own business, Dary Greely.” She forced frost into her voice. “I appreciate you returning what’s mine, but I’ve a lot to do right now.” She tried for a light laugh and failed miserably. “Lose an hour in the morning and sure, you’ll be lookin’ for it all day. ’Tis late I am and—”

“Rose?”

His quiet voice stopped the flow of words spilling from her lips.

“Kiss me.”

Before she could form a reply, his arms slipped around her and he pulled her against him, claiming her mouth with his.

His lips were soft and firm on hers, and he tasted of whiskey and wood smoke. His hands warmed her, set her heart fluttering and her body to trembling violently.

“Róisín.” His mouth skimmed down to her throat, suckling lightly and drawing a startled whimper from her. It felt so good…he felt so good, so right. She combed shaking fingers through the cool silk of his hair, wanting, needing to draw his essence into her. “Rose.”

“Dary.” She couldn’t catch her breath, he scrambled her senses so. She yearned to touch him, caress him, explore the hard muscles of his arms, his chest. “Ah, Dary.”

“You taste so good, my dark Rose.” His tongue smoothed over her ear. “Oh, sweet sacred Jaysus, I’ve waited so long for this. For you.

She buried her own lips into the hollow of his throat, feeling the teasing prickle of whiskers against her skin. Mindlessly, like the cats that roamed the alleys around the tenements and yowled through the night, she rubbed her face against them and heard a harsh groan rumble through him. Desire sang in her veins, pooled deep within her.

“This is right.” His voice was rough, urgent, commanding, his hands searing her body even through the worn fabric of her dress. “Do you see that, my lovely Róisín? Do you feel it? Feel what you do to me?”

“No.” She wound her arms about his neck and pressed her body against his. She sank trembling fingers into the rough hair at his nape, stroking gently, and he groaned against her mouth. “We can’t…we mustn’t…”

His mouth gentled, wandered leisurely, tenderly over her cheek, soft, caressing. Oh, never had the touch of a man’s lips felt so wonderful! His hands roved restlessly over her back, molding her curves, and she shivered, glorying in his strength. “Why not?” His husky growl warmed her ear.

She ran her hands over the breadth of his shoulders, squeezing lightly, clinging, for her knees had suddenly gone to water. “Not…not here.” She tried to draw breath, but her chest was tight, her entire body trembling with need. “My brother… we…we can’t…”

“Róisín?”

The safe circle of his arms suddenly chilled. She struggled against the seductive pull of his kisses, frantically tried to free herself.

“Róisín?”

“Stop…please,” she gasped. “’Tis Eilish.”

“Eilish?” He stared down at her, his eyes fogged with desire, his breathing harsh.

“My baby sister. She has bad dreams sometimes. I must go to her.”

But even as she tried to disentangle herself, he pulled her back. “Not yet.” He nuzzled his face into her hair. “Not yet.” His lips grazed her temples, igniting tingles of fiery pleasure all the way down to her toes. “Just…one more kiss.” His mouth claimed hers, deep, intoxicating, possessing. “Rose…you’re sweet…so sweet.”

“Róisín!” A different voice, dark, enraged. Joe leaped from the sofa, wild-eyed. He strode across the room, his step unsteady, and grabbed Dary’s arm, yanking him away from his sister. “Who the hell are you?”

“Joe!” Róisín tried to catch his vaguely waving fist. “Joe… don’t!”

 

 

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