Baily's Irish Dream

She couldn’t refuse him one kiss. She couldn’t refuse herself one kiss, either. Tilting her head slightly, she allowed him to press his lips against hers. First he was gentle, tugging at her lips with his own. Then he was playful, darting his tongue out to caress her lips and the seam between them. Then he was bold, pushing his body against hers until her back was pressed against the door and her arms had no place to go except around him. His tongue plunged into her mouth, conquering her with his intensity.

She tasted him and he was wonderful. She knew he tasted her, as well, and groaned with the thought of it. Baily could only hope that she was as pleasing to him as he was to her. Every good intention she ever had was about to fly out the window because she couldn’t remember the name of the person she was having those good intentions for.

Daniel chose that moment to end the kiss. He practically had to rip his lips off hers. For a moment they looked at each other and felt their chests beat against each other as their lungs struggled for breath. Baily wanted to tell him to forget Howard, or Harold, or whatever his name was and take her right there against the door hard and fast and so deep that she would never forget it.

Instead she said, “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow,” Daniel repeated. Then he backed off, leaving her arms empty. “A deal’s a deal.” He took the key from her hand, opened the door, and went inside.

Numb, Baily could only stare at the open door.