CHAPTER ONE
“EXCUSEME.Can I kiss you?”
Remi Donovan blinked at the tall, ridiculously gorgeous man standing at the library’s circulation desk.
Impossible. He couldn’t have just said what she thought he said. It was Declan Howard in front of her, after all.
“I’m sorry?”
His eyes briefly slid away before landing back on her in their lilac—yes, lilac—glory. “I know this is...unorthodox. And I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency. But can I kiss you? Please?”
An emergency kiss?
Well,okay. She’d heard a lot of bullshit in her years—one couldn’t have a high school teacher as a best friend, who regularly regaled her with students’ excuses about homework and not be well versed in bullshit—but this? It definitely landed in the top ten.
But again. Declan Howard. Recent transplant to Rose Bend, Massachusetts, Declan Howard. Successful businessman Declan Howard.
Secret crush Declan Howard.
She blinked again.
Nope, the face of sharp angles, dramatic slants and masculine beauty didn’t still disappear. A proud, clear brow that could rock a Mr. Rochester–worthy scowl. An arrogant blade of a nose that somehow appeared haughtyandlike it’d taken a punch and come out the winner. The slopes of his cheekbones and jaw could’ve received awards for their melodrama, and that mouth... Well, the less said about that sinful creation the better.
As a matter of fact...
She glanced over her shoulder just to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone behind her.
When no one appeared, she turned back to him. Swallowed and forced a nonchalant shrug. He was still standing there wanting to kiss her?
“Um. Sure.”
Relief flashed in his eyes. Then they grew hooded, lashes lowering, but not fast enough to hide another flicker of emotion. Something darker, more intense. Something that had her belly clenching in a hard, heavy tug...
His arm stretched across the circulation desk and a big hand curled around the nape of her neck, drawing her forward.
Oh God...
That mouth. She would be a liar if she claimed not to have stared at the wide, sensual curves that were somehow both firm and soft. Both inviting and intimidating. She’d often wondered how the contrast of that slightly thinner top lip would compare to the fuller bottom one.
Now she knew.
In complete, exacting detail.
Perfection.
Giving and demanding. Indulgent and hard. Sharp as the drop in temperature on an October night in the southern Berkshires. And as sweet as the candied apples the middle school PTA sold for their annual fall fundraiser.
His lips molded to hers, sliding, pressing... Parting. First his breath, carrying his earthy cloves-and-cinnamon scent, invaded her. Then his tongue followed, gliding over hers, greeting her before engaging in a sensual dance that teetered on the edge of erotic. And as he sucked on her tongue, then licked the sensitive roof of her mouth, she tipped closer to that edge.
A whimper escaped her, one that she would no doubt be completely mortified over later, and holy hell, he licked that up, too. And gave her a groan in return as if her pleasure tasted good to him.
She released another whimper, this one of disappointment as he withdrew from her. That whimper, too, she’d cringe over later. But now, as the library’s recycled air brushed her damp, swollen lips and her lashes lifted, all she cared about was that beautiful mouth making its way back to her and—
Oh God.
She stiffened.
The library. She was in the middle of the library. During lunch hour. Right before the kindergartners from the grade school arrived for Friday Story Circle.
