Leslie Kelly - Wicked & Willing

She merely shook her head, unable or unwilling to answer. Troy, however, wasn’t one to give up without a fight. “Can you give me one chance to change your mind?”

She eyed him warily but didn’t refuse. Letting her see his small confident smile, he leaned closer, catching her exotic scent. Then closer, until he saw the pulse beating wildly in her neck. And closer still, until their lips were a breath apart.

“You think you can change my mind with a kiss?” she whispered.

He responded with a slow nod and a lazy drawl. “Yes.”

She visibly stiffened at the certainty in his tone.

“You think I can’t?”

She responded to his challenge with a raised eyebrow and a taunting look. “You can try.”

He did, slipping his fingers into her hair, tangling his hands in that thick mass of living fire. He touched his lips to hers, gently at first, tasting her, savoring the softness of her mouth. Only when she moaned low in her throat did he go farther, sliding his tongue between his lips, letting it mate lazily with hers in a hot, intoxicating dance that sent intense sensations rushing through his body.

She tasted sweet and ripe, like summer fruit. But warm, like fine whiskey. She moaned again and tilted her head, kissing him back just as deliberately, just as invitingly.

He tugged her closer, until, somehow, she was sitting on his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, his around her jean-clad hips. He skimmed his fingers beneath her cotton top. Lightly touching the bare flesh at her waist, he heard her sigh against his kiss as skin met skin.

Finally, he moved his mouth from hers, kissing the corner of her lips, then her cheek. Her jaw. Her neck.

“Changed your mind yet?” he growled against her throat.

“Uh-huh,” she whispered.

“Good. Tell me what time we can get together tomorrow night.” He scraped his teeth along her collarbone, feeling the way she jerked against him in response. “If you’re sure tonight’s out, that is.”

She groaned in frustration. “It’s definitely out.”

Before he could attempt to cajole her, she pulled back. “I think I hear voices.”

She was up, off his lap, standing at the rail so fast, he thought he’d imagined their heated kiss.

“Are you sure? I don’t hear anything,” he said, wanting her back in his arms. Immediately, if not sooner. He stood and joined her at the railing.

Before she could answer, a sliding glass door opened behind them. Max stepped out, followed by his nephew, Leo. Max looked tense, appearing very much the seventy-four-year-old man he was. Leo, on the other hand, looked positively euphoric.

Max glanced briefly at Troy, dismissed him, then focused on Venus. “Is this true?”

She stood up straighter. Beside her, Troy could easily see the way her hands trembled, until she clenched them together in front of her. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak.

“Is what true?” Troy asked.

“Of course it is,” Leo said.

Max ignored them both and stepped closer to Venus. “Is it possible? Is it really you…Violet?”

Confused, Troy said, “Her name’s…”

“Yes, I told you, I’m certain it’s true,” Leo interjected, stepping between Troy and Max. He took Venus’s hand and pulled her forward, looking as happy as a kid with a surprise cereal box toy. “Uncle Max, meet your long-lost granddaughter.”

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