Leopard 01 - The Awakening

arms in a massage.
    “Why do you touch me as if you have the right?” And why did she crave his touch? “You touch me as if it’s perfectly natural.” As if she belonged to him.
    “Does it bother you so much?” His voice dropped an octave, became a husky seduction. The pad of his thumb slid over her full lower lip in a caressing stroke.
    Her stomach did a flip of delight. “It bothers me because it feels . . .” She trailed off, her eyes locked with his. It felt right. Perfect. Exactly what she wanted. His mouth was a scant few inches from hers.
    The temptation of his perfectly sculpted lips was more than she could resist.
    Maggie honestly didn’t know who moved first. She only knew there was magic in the brush of his mouth on hers. He was unexpectedly gentle, his lips moving over hers like the soft drift of the breeze.
    She felt his ravenous hunger, yet he touched her so tenderly, coaxing her response instead of demanding one. She pressed closer to him, circling her arms around his neck, needing the feel of his body against hers.
    At once his lips firmed, hardened. He deepened the kiss, his hands sliding over the contours of her body, shaping her curves, dragging her closer. Brandt pushed the edge of her shirt up to give him access to bare skin. His palms found lace over her breasts, the thinnest skimming of materials to cover luscious treasure.
    His touch sent fire racing through her blood. It shook her that she could have such a reaction, such an overwhelming need. A tremor ran through her body, and she stiffened slightly, something deep within her still fighting.
    He abruptly pulled his mouth away from hers, his hands lingering on her breasts, his forehead resting on hers. There was the sheen of sweat on his skin and his breathing was ragged, his body fiercely aroused. “We can’t stay here alone like this, Maggie. I don’t have nearly the control I thought I did.”
    He kissed her again. Gently. Persuasively. “Unless you want me the way I want you.”
    Everything feminine in her rose up to answer his call. She wanted him. Craved him. But as hot as she felt, as much as she wanted to wrap herself around him, something deep within her perversely denied them both the ultimate release.
    “I can’t, Brandt, I’m sorry. I don’t know why. I can’t.” She curled her fingers in his shirt, held on to him for comfort.
    His hands reluctantly left her breasts, skimmed over her rib cage, caressed her flat belly. “I understand, honey. Don’t worry.” He kissed her forehead, breathing deeply to pull himself back from the edge of sexual hunger. “Let’s go somewhere safe.”
    “Is there somewhere safe?” She looked up at him, knowing her eyes were shining at him. His understanding only served to make him more attractive. Brandt Talbot was an incredibly sensitive man and she was falling deeper and deeper beneath his spell.
    He bent his head to kiss the corner of her mouth, feeling he should be a candidate for sainthood or at the very least knighted. He took her hand and started off confidently in another direction. “I guess the village would be safe enough. We might find a person or two there.” He scowled as he said it.
    Maggie knew he was thinking about the mysterious James, hoping he wouldn’t be at the village. “I would hope so. I’d like that. I’ve wanted to see it.” She enjoyed walking beside him as he named plant species and pointed out animals and reptiles she might have missed. She became aware of how completely safe she felt with him. The forest was a dark place, mystical and even haunting, yet Brandt moved so quietly, so fluidly, with such complete assurance, she realized just how much a part of it he really was. “You took all those photographs hanging in the house, didn’t you? They’re very good.”
    There was raw admiration in her voice.
    He actually flushed. “You noticed those, did you? I hope you didn’t read any of that nonsense. I should have taken them down but I didn’t think about it.”
    “I liked the poetry.”
    He groaned. “It isn’t poetry. I just was trying to find something for titles but nothing fit.” His excuse sounded lame even to his own ears.
    Maggie reached out and touched his hair, tangling her fingers in the silky mass for just a moment because she couldn’t resist. “Are you a professional photographer?” He was so appealing in his embarrassment that she was reluctant to help him out but she couldn’t stop herself.
    “I freelance for