The Victorian Lure Short Excerpt:
Standing within inches, the smile he bestowed made her grasp the counter behind her. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he must be the poster boy for the Scottish Highlands. Her mind drifted once more to the sight of his backside. Dakota couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever worn a kilt. Did they even wear those there anymore? Probably not. As if she was into guys wearing skirts anyway…please.
“Like it light and sweet?” He asked.
Of course that’s what he meant. After all, no such thing as a light and sweet kilt! She chuckled.
He cocked his head. “You should laugh more often, Dakota,” he murmured, still standing close.
The way he said it─brogue soft and full of encouragement─made her find the counter with her other hand. Full support was needed. Lord. Only ten hours ago, no, two, she had found him obnoxious and overbearing. Now she wasn’t so sure.
“Was I right about the coffee?” he asked.
Coffee? Right, light and sweet. “Yeah, how’d you know?”
His eyes fell to her lips. “Just a feeling.”
“Good feeling,” she said softly. The room faded away. Idle chatter vanished. She liked the sensual cut of his lower lip. The edges curved down a bit, as though he spent too much time frowning. His top lip was carved into strong slopes. She imagined running her tongue between his lips, tracing the smooth edges. Where had that thought come from?
When he leaned across to set his mug on the counter, he came so close she could smell a fresh, soapy spice burn from his skin. Or was that the candle? He was so tall, lips so close. If she only moved forward a fraction, closed the distance, would his lips taste as good as they looked?
Leathan’s eyes rose to hers. She knew as she gazed into their rich depths, he wanted the same. Blood rushed through her limbs, made her lips throb in anticipation. What harm could one little kiss do?
Just to see.