Page 54 of Sweet Talking Man


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Abigail watched his finger trailing over her pulse. "I never thought my wrist was elegant."

He flipped her hand and bestowed a kiss on the back of it. ''All of you is very elegant. Like a Degas. You remind me of one of his dancers."

Abigail swallowed. "I was a dancer once."

Leif brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, marveling at the dramatic streak of silver amid the darkness. Abigail's breath came faster and he felt her body amp. Her forearm rested on his thigh, her knees bumping his shins. He loved the way she smelled light, floral, and clean like a meadow or some other poetic thing. "I could tell when we danced earlier. You move so easily, so sweetly against me."

Abigail watched his mouth as he murmured tender things to her. "You sure know how to make a woman feel good about herself."

"You're a woman who should never feel bad about herself," he said, curving a hand behind her neck, bringing her mouth to his. "Never, ever."

Slowly he covered her mouth with his, savoring the fullness of her lips for a second. She leaned into him, surrendering.

"So sweet," he murmured before lightly touching his tongue to her lower lip. She inhaled deeply and moved her hand to his jaw as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, teasing her with his tongue. Carefully, he wound his other arm about her waist, anchoring her to him.

And then he merely enjoyed kissing Abigail.

She tasted delicious-like passion and goodness rolled into one. She was pretty talented at kissing, so he enjoyed the feel of her body against his, the promise in her tongue meeting his. Their dance had begun long ago, but Abigail had just now settled into the rhythm, allowing the passionate creature beneath the buttoned-up cardigan to peek its head out.

After a few seconds, he broke the kiss.

"What did you do that for?" Abigail murmured, brushing his jaw with that elegant hand he so liked. "Not complaining. I really enjoy kissing you."

"Oh, babe, I liked it, too, but we can't have dessert before we've eaten." He dropped a kiss on her nose and sprang to his feet.

She fell against the cushion. "What?"

"I'm going to get those dogs. You fill our glasses." He indicated the chill bucket behind her before giving her an impudent winkand stepping inside.

Yes, romancing Abigail was better than he expected.

ABIGAIL TURNEDTOWARD the silver bucket and lifted the bottle from the icy depths, refilling both their glasses. She could feel the wine warm her stomach, giving her that wooziness she needed.

Or maybe she was woozy from Leif's kiss. Briefly she touched her lips.

Dang, he was a good kisser. Her pulse had galloped with that whole wrist-kissing thing, and by the time his lips touched hers, she could have combusted into flames right there on the man's patio.

You're just horny.

Yeah. Okay. So her inner voice wasn't wrong. It had been a long time since a man had kissed her, since a man had touched her so tenderly. A hot pink vibrator was no substitute for the feel of a man beneath her hands. She'd missed that human touch, the smell of a man, the abrasion of five-o'clock shadow against her cheek, the mingling of breaths.

So what if she let herself indulge in Leif? She was a grown-up woman with needs.

Hadn't she sacrificed everything to raise a daughter, keep a roof over their heads, to make ends meet? Hadn't she spent late nights sewing Renaissance-faire costumes and early mornings hauling Birdie to the soccer field? Hadn't she been on the pew every Sunday to hear her daddy preach and spent countless nights in the hospital while her mother recovered from breast cancer? Heck, she'd even helped to plan Cal's parents' fiftieth wedding anniversary party...one her ex didn't bother to attend.

So why not take a little something for herself? A little lust-slaking with the tight-assed, lickable Leif could be just what she needed. Didn't she deserve a taste of Leif?

Don't think.

"Here we are," he said coming through the sliding glass door holding a tray. "I brought mustard but I couldn't find ketchup."

She chuckled at the thought of having him with either of those condiments, and then tried to rip her mind from a naked Leif and her doing naughty things to him.

Hot-dog wieners. Right.

"I love mustard."

Leif sat the tray between them, lifting the cheese plate to make room. ''And look, marshmallows for dessert."

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