Sleeping Beauty by Dallas Schulze Page A

out and bury his hand in the honey-colored hair that spilled down her back, wanted to nibble his way down the delicate arch of her throat. He didn't know what it was about her that made him want her like this. It wasn't as if she dressed to drive a man wild. The sunshine-colored short-sleeved dress, with its frill skirt and V-neckline, was hardly designed with seduction in mind, but his fingers itched with the urge to unfasten the prim little row of buttons that marched from neckline to hem.
    If he leaned over and kissed her now, would she respond the way she had last night, all trembling arousal and uncertain response? And what was she wearing under that prim little dress? Silk and lace, or plain cotton?
    He wasn't aware of moving until he felt his hand slide into that thick fall of hair, cupping the back of her head. Anne didn't start but only opened her eyes slowly, as if she'd been expecting him, waiting for him.
    "I just have to see if I imagined it," he whispered.
    "Imagined what?"
    "The way you taste." The last word was murmured against her mouth.
    It was different this time, Anne thought. Last night she'd been startled, a little frightened and completely unprepared for the wave of heat that rolled through her when he touched her. Since then, she'd spent a lot of time remembering, imagining, hoping. And now, here it was happening again, only better. So much better.
    With a sigh, she opened her mouth to him, her tongue coming up to fence with his. He tasted of root beer and smelled of soap and aftershave. When she felt his arm come around her back, lifting her closer, she brought her arms up to circle his neck, indulging the urge to slide her fingers into his hair. It felt like warm black silk, she thought, and then whimpered softly as his teeth scraped along her bottom lip.
    It was like the first time, Neill thought, dazed by the power and speed of it. One touch, one kiss, and he wanted so much more. And he could have it, he knew. He could have her. K they were alone, he could slide all those tantalizing buttons loose and take what she was so sweetly offering.
    But they weren't alone, and it was too soon, even if it felt like he'd been wanting her forever. She would have regrets. He didn't question that knowledge but accepted it, just as he'd accepted the need to see her again, to touch her again. He had time, he reminded himself. He wasn't going anywhere until he'd figured out this...whatever it was between them.
    Reluctantly, he eased back until he was looking down at her. She opened her eyes so slowly that they might have been weighted and stared at him with a look of staggered arousal that tested his already shaky control to the limits.
    "I'd better get you back," he said, indulging the need to taste the delicate arch of her throat
    "Back where?" she whispered, her senses swimming with the feel of him, the taste of him.
    "To work." He touched the tip of his tongue to the pulse that beat at the base of her throat and felt it jump.
    "Work." Anne struggled with the concept. She was nearly sure that the word meant something to her, but, at the moment, she couldn't seem to recall what.
    "The bank." He pressed a quick, hard kiss on her mouth before easing away. "Your job, remember?"
    "Yes." It seemed the appropriate answer, but the truth was that she could barely remember her own name. Anne lifted an unsteady hand to smooth her hair as she tried to grab hold of her spinning thoughts. She was grateful when Neill stood and, picking up the bag that held the remnants of their meal, carried it to the nearest trash can. It was impossible to think with him so close, barely possible to think when he wasn't.
    A kiss, she reminded herself. Still just a kiss. This sort of thing happened every day, all over the world. People kissed each other and their brains continued to function. It seemed incredible, but she was nearly sure it could be done.
    When Neill returned, Anne was upright, standing on legs that were almost steady. She