Hatfield and McCoy by Heather Graham Page A

explode there in the hallway like soaring red fireworks. The fever scorched along her back and settled into her.
    And the kiss went on and on …
    The kind of kiss that could never, never stop at the lips.

Chapter 5
    H is kiss was the most wonderful thing Julie had imagined, sweet water on dry earth, magic and mystery, and a slow, burning lesson in the ways of sensuality. His lips touched her lips, but the fire they created touched her skin, swirled to her belly and found root in some central place of her being. Every shift, every movement, each touch, each stroke … all were so natural and fluid, and all touched her anew. She felt the roughness of his fingertips against the bare flesh on her arms, her cheeks. His lips, his tongue … he kissed her and kissed her. Tasting, demanding. Savagely and tenderly at the same time. The feel of his body against hers was overwhelming. The driving tension, the engulfing heat, the steel power seemed to enwrap and encompass her. Then his lips rose briefly, and his eyes touched hers. She didn’t know exactly what he sought, but he seemed to have found it. Once again, his lips found hers. His teeth gently caught her lower lip, and the searing warmth streaked through her once again. Her knees were weak, and a fierce trembling had begun within her.
    His tongue bathed her lower lip, then he kissed her cheek, her forehead, her lips again. His movement was slow …
    And so anxious. So leashed. As if he hungered greatly, but dined slowly to savor each morsel of a meal.
    Julie gasped softly, clinging to his neck. He brushed aside her hair and kissed her throat. His tongue teased her flesh; his teeth barely brushed it. His lips moved again, just beneath her ear. Then lower, against her shoulder.
    The buttons of her blouse were slipping open. As if they had life of their own, as if they approved of the assault on her senses, as if they gave blessing to it. He found the flaring throb of her pulse and left his kiss there. And then his head moved lower, and she vaguely thought that he had wonderful, thick rich sandy hair, then the thoughts were stolen from her mind, for his kiss was pressed against the rise of her breast, searing hot and more arousing than she could bear. She moaned softly, and her fingers knotted into his hair.
    â€œJulie …”
    â€œYes …”
    She didn’t know if the whisper of her name was a question or not. She knew only that he had touched her in some way from the first moment she had seen him. And they had both known that coming to this point was inevitable.
    He was the man … the man in her dream. The man who had brought heaven to her, here on this earth. The man who …
    A chill swept through her. Danger. There had been so much danger in the dream. Ecstasy followed by fear.
    But she wasn’t afraid.
    Perhaps he felt her tensing. Perhaps not. His arms were more securely around her. His kiss was more tantalizing. No fear …
    Either that, or the desire was simply greater. So great that she could not care. Her blouse had fallen open all the way. He moved deftly, swiftly, knowing what he wanted. His fingers brushed against her back, freeing her breasts from the restraints of her white lace bra. His lips kissed the rise of flesh, then his mouth took her in, his tongue brushing her nipple fiercely, his hands … caressing.
    A long, low moan escaped her. All thoughts of fear evaporated. She had never felt more sheltered.
    Or more aroused.
    His lips covered hers once again, then his head rose suddenly and she felt the silver fever of his eyes tense on hers. She was in his arms, half naked now, parts of her clothing barely dangling from her shoulders.
    â€œYou do live alone, I hope?” he said.
    She smiled, a slow, warm smile that curled across the fullness of her lip. She nodded.
    Then she was swept urgently into his arms. Her arms curled around his neck.
    â€œWhere?” he demanded huskily.
    â€œUpstairs.”
    Julie