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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First Kiss Friday – Guardian of Darkness by Kathryn Le Veque

Today’s First Kiss Friday featured guest is Kathryn Le Veque, author of medieval romance Guardian of Darkness.  Welcome Kathryn!  Here’s the first kiss between Lady Carington Kerr and Sir Creed de Reyne.

GoDarkness 2014He smiled in reply, gazing into her lovely face, knowing that he was going to kiss her and there was not a damn thing he could do to stop himself. His grip tightened, pulling her cheek very close to his mouth, and his lips went to work. Very gently, his mouth moved across her cheek to her chin. As it did so, he felt her body quiver violently and it fed both his passion and his curiosity; he was wildly curious to taste her lips. He thought she tried to say something but he could not be sure; before she could get the words out, his lips slanted over hers and he fed his curiosity with her delicious flesh.

Clutched tightly against Creed’s chest, Carington knew she should, at the very least, be protesting his actions. She had tried, sort of, but his mouth had claimed her own and the protest died on her lips.  Now she was experiencing the searing heat of his mouth, scorching her like nothing she had ever known to exist. She’d never been kissed by a man before and hardly knew what to expect, but Creed’s gentle lips wordlessly instructed her on how to respond. In a very short amount of time, she was aptly doing so. In fact, it was as if a flood gate suddenly opened and her passionate Scot nature exploded in ways she never knew it could.

Her small fingers found their way into his inky hair, gripping his head as he devoured her. His tongue licked at her lips, tenderly prying them open, and she gasped as he invaded her honeyed mouth. Carington savored the sensations, each one so new and exciting, feeling his flesh against hers, his massive arms around her slender body. There was such excitement and comfort and passion, sensations she had never felt before, and she mimicked his actions, matching him suckle for suckle because it seemed like the most natural thing to do. She could taste him, his distinct musk and saltiness, and it was exhilarating.

Creed was kissing her so lustfully that he nearly swallowed half her face. She was delectably sweet, like nothing he had ever sampled before, and the fact that she was responding eagerly to him only increased his fervor. She was so small that his arms encircled her torso and then some, and he could feel the swell of her left breast against the palm of his left hand. It was firm and warm. With the figure this woman had, curvaceous and slender in all the right places, having her in his arms only served to excite him more.

The kiss was growing more heated. A bevy of unexpected emotions and sensations were beginning to crop up, seeds of obsession and intimate curiosity that he could not seem to control. Creed was suckling gently on her tongue when a soft knock sounded at the chamber door. Startled, his head came up and they both stared at the door a moment as if unsure they had heard anything at all. But a second knock came shortly thereafter, stronger than the first, and Creed lifted her up and set her on her feet as if she weighed no more than a child. Carington wobbled, giggled, and he smiled in response, putting a finger over his lips to indicate silence. He noticed her face was rather red, her lips glossy-wet from his kiss, and he gently wiped his hand over the lower half of her face to remove all traces of his loss of control. Carington wiped her face with her own hands just to make sure. He could see that her hands were shaking.