Callie, Get Your Groom. Julianna Morris

her into a kiss.

      Dear heaven…the moan from Callie’s throat was lost in his mouth, drowned in the unique flavor of Mike and Scotch. This is what she’d been craving. Even when she’d succeeded in pushing him from her mind—sometimes for months at a time—she’d craved the excitement and passion of his embrace.

      She straddled Mike’s waist and stroked her tongue over his lips, an erotic invitation to deepen the kiss. It was instinctive, a knowledge born of hope and longing and feminine intuition.

      He rewarded her urgency, his fingers rhythmically squeezing and releasing her bottom, intensifying the tremor spinning through her core. His tongue delved into the humid warmth inside her mouth, tracing the even edge of her teeth. Velvet on velvet, infusing their lungs with the other’s breath.

      Shaking violently, Callie finally tore away and collapsed on Mike’s chest. She couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel and taste him.

      Taste and feel…

      Callie moaned again, unable to resist exploring the muscled contours beneath her cheek. She tasted the saltiness of his skin, tracing the hard points of his flat nipples with her fingernails, and sensed a deep shudder rising from him. This wasn’t her need alone, it was the mutual desire of two people who were surely meant to be together.

      And then…she heard a quiet snore in her ear.

      What?

      She wanted to hit him. Passion was zinging through her veins and the dope was sound asleep.

      Rat.

      Louse.

      Cretin. How could he fall asleep on her?

      When she’d finally called him every insult available, Callie slid to the ground and drew her knees against her chest. She’d be glad in the morning that nothing happened, but it wasn’t morning and she was hurting. Unrequited love was bad enough, but unrequited passion was physical torture…not that she should complain. More than one boyfriend had pointed out the discomforts of such a condition.

      She wished she’d been more sympathetic.

      Mike probably wouldn’t remember this kiss, either. He’d been kissed by so many women, what was one more?

      Callie scowled.

      The northern lights still danced across the sky, spinning pink ribbons of light that eclipsed the stars. No wonder Mike loved Alaska so much. She’d love it, too, if she got the chance.

      Right. Callie nodded. She hadn’t grown up managing her family for nothing. Those skills must be good for something…like winding Mike around her little finger.

      At the same time a sigh welled out of her chest. Mike wasn’t easily convinced. By tomorrow he would have shored his defenses and she’d have to tumble them down again.

      Well, too bad.

      The trick was not letting him affect her so easily.

      The ghostly lights continued to dance as Callie repaired her resolve. She might not succeed, but Michael Fitzpatrick was about to take one heck of a ride. Maybe along the way he’d discover his heart…and the girl he’d left behind.