mischievously. Miranda suspected she knew what was coming next.
â âBut, Huttsi, what an enormousââ â
âDonât say it!â She covered his mouth. His chuckle warmed both her hand and her ears.
âDonât you want to know how it ends?â he asked.
âIâm not certain I do.â
âIâll tell you anyway. He devours her bite by delectable bite.â He flashed another very wolfish smile. âYou see?â His smile disappeared. âYou are never safe with a wolf.â
His lips were soft, smooth, and so very knowing as his mouth melded with hers with slow, toe-curling deliberation. There was nothing hurried or clumsy, none of the typical hesitancy, nose bumping, or teeth clashing of a first kiss. Taking her face in his hands, he deepened the kiss by tiny degrees, increasing pressure, adding licks and nips, teasing and torturing her until his hot tongue breached her mouth. Their tongues met, sliding and tanglingâboth a prelude and promise of so much more. Sheâd never been kissed by a man who knew how to give her everything she wanted, but Keith did.
Shutting her eyes, she recalled a night spent in another desert when sheâd driven down to Baja California for a project in time-lapse videography. After hours of scouting, sheâd located a small growth of thin, inconspicuous, dead-looking branches hidden among a patch of scrubâa night-blooming cereus. After setting up cameras, sheâd spent the night vigilantly watching for the desert queen to unfurl for its single night of glory. When the flower finally opened, it had perfumed the air with a sweet and delicate scent. She sat watching the flower until it had wilted and withered away with the first light of dawn. Watching that bloom come to life had been one her most memorable experiences.
Keith made her feel very much like that desert flower waiting to bloom. She yearned to be touchedâ¦to be lovedâ¦and her resistance to him was fading fast. The kiss intensified, blinding her with blissful sensation. Nothing compared to the taste of his mouth, of his musky scent, of the feel of his warm hands on her skin. It was everything sheâd hoped for and more. Any lingering doubts vaporized like a puff of breath in the cold night air.
Her hands crept up to his chest, the heat of his skin permeating through the cotton of his shirt into her fingertips. She swallowed hard. A low growl broke the quiet of the night. Miranda froze. âWhat was that?â
He tensed. âWhat was what ?â
âThat sound.â
Another growl was echoed by bloodcurdling shrieks from the two horses. Keith was instantly on his feet and shouldering his rifle. He took off running toward the horses while Miranda fumbled in the dark for the flashlight. She arrived at the scene just as a great shadow leaped through the air. She drew in a breath to scream but, paralyzed with terror, no sound emerged. The panic-stricken horses frantically kicked, reared, and hauled back on the picket line in their urgency to flee. The line snapped. The lamp crashed to the ground, casting the scene into darkness.
âI canât see anything!â Keith hissed. âShine the light out there.â
The narrow beam of her flashlight pierced the darkness, but not enough to help.
âWhere is it?â she asked.
âI donât know. Shit!â Keith fired a shot into the air, cocked the rifle again, and fired another.
Miranda then shone the light on the ground beneath the picket line, where puddles of blood soaked the earth, trailing into the blackness beyond. She covered her mouth in horror. âOh my God! What was it?â
âA mountain lion,â he answered grimly. âWith the way it leapt, it couldnât be anything else.â
âWhat are we going to do?â she asked.
âNothing. Heâs already made the kill.â
âHow do you know? How can you be certain the animal
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