Alanna (When Hearts Dare Series Book 2) by Kathleen Bittner Roth

conversation. You need to leave.”
    “You say you want me to leave, yet you are fighting the urge to keep me with you.”
    “And?” Humor suddenly crinkled the corners of his eyes.
    “And you are quite taken with me, sir.”
    “Well, what of you, Alanna Malone?” He leaned forward. “Have you caught my scent, also?” A smile tipped the corners of his mouth.
    Her heart thumped in her throat. “Long ago.” Her answer was nearly a part of her exhale, it came so soft.
    They sat in silence—so close she could feel his breath fall rhythmically on her mouth. He closed his eyes and let his lips barely touch hers, for a brief moment only.
    He withdrew, just enough to look into her eyes. “Am I your knight in shining armor, then?” he asked mockingly.
    “Yes.”
    “But I might not fit the bill.” He reached up and lightly tucked an errant curl behind her ear.
    The heat in his eyes warmed her in places that were better left untouched at present. She took in a shallow breath, which was all she could manage. “Oh, your armor has dents, make no mistake. I don’t consider you to be perfect. On the contrary.”
    “And do the dents in my armor offend thee, fair maiden?” There was a thickness to his voice now.
    But she was dead serious. Her bold stare never left his. “Oh, I would not want a knight with no dents. It means he has never been to battle, never fought for his honor, the things he believes in, or for sheer survival. Without the dents, sir, I would not trust my knight to be fully human.”
    “And what if your almighty knight fixed the dents? Or got new armor?” Those gilded lashes swept low as his gaze slid from her eyes to her mouth and back again.
    Something hot shimmered in her blood. “A good knight would keep his armor. Repair it, but never entirely smooth it out.” Her words grew heavy in her throat. “That would be an impossible task. And I would not want a knight who insisted on having new armor, the surface always shining and clean. He would only be living for who he thinks he might be, or for what others in the world desire him to be.”
    Wolf regarded her for the longest while, his body communicating a language even she, in her innocence, could understand. “I think, Wolf, now is the time for me to take my leave.”
    “Why do you call me Wolf, and not Mr. Wolf?”
    His words, little more than a murmur, collected in the pit of her belly. “Because that’s your name , Wolf.” She mocked him. “ Wolf. Just plain Wolf .”
    “Where did you hear that?” His voice grew deliciously rough.
    She stared at his mouth, mesmerized by its sensuous curves. “In the hotel in San Francisco.”
    “Well, then.” The air shifted, as if a sultry breeze had blown in. His gaze filled with a spectrum of emotions. He leaned forward, his lashes lowering. “Tell me to stop, Alanna Malone, because I can’t seem to help myself.”
    The sharp intake of her own breath echoed in her ears. She closed her eyes.
    His hands cupped her face. “Sweet Christ,” he uttered as his mouth, warm and soft, gently covered hers.
    She parted her lips to breathe, and the kiss deepened. He tasted of mint and tea, and when his tongue touched hers, every nerve in her body came to life. A shudder ran through her. The most intense pleasure she had ever known gripped her heart—she’d been lonely and never known it.
    He pulled away, his chest heaving. “You need to leave.”
    She stood, nodding. Wrapping her arms around herself, she walked to the door and flung it open.
    “Alanna?”
    “Yes.” She stepped outside and turned to him.
    “You don’t ride sidesaddle. You ride like a man, don’t you?”
    She laughed at his absurd way of defusing what had just occurred. Relieved, she cocked her head. “I beg your pardon?”
    A lighthearted grin curved his lips. “The muscles in your legs are evenly matched.” He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “Oh, one other thing.”
    “What?”
    “That little dagger strapped on the