Wednesday, May 13, 2009
His lips caressed hers. Elizabeth melted. If he hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she probably would have fallen into a heap on the floor. She slid her arm over his shoulder to tangle her fingers in his long, soft black hair. Puzzola groaned as she ran her other hand over his painted cheek and her fingers through his blonde stripe. She inhaled rapidly as he pulled her upward to place feather kisses on her neck and collarbone. It felt so good, so right pressed against him. His lips came down hard on hers, parting her lips for a deep, intense kiss that reached into the depths of her soul.
“There is so much I want,” his voice was raspy. “I want to be with you. I want to take you where I know you want to be.”
“I wish I didn’t have to leave in the morning,” Elizabeth could hardly breathe. She was ready to give herself, and would have bargained with the devil himself for more time tonight in London. If he asked her to spend the night with him, she would.
“There is not enough time to kiss you. Not enough time to touch you. You are in my soul, Elizabeth McAlister. Remember my promise, we will meet again,” he whispered the pledge to her as he rubbed her temple with his thumb.
He ran his long fingers across her cheek to the back of her head and kissed her with greater intensity than before. She felt him claiming her, possessing her. With their bodies flattened against each other, she felt them fusing together. She could feel his heart beating as fast as hers was pounding loud in her ears.
As he pulled away, Elizabeth asked, “What’s your real name?”
“Puzzola,” he responded as he bowed his head and a lock of blonde hair fell across his dark eyebrows and ocean eyes. With two fingers, he gave her a jaunty salute and disappeared into the crowd.
Excerpt from the Prologue of Painted Soul - Book One of the Soul Series.