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Alayna followed the instructions, and ended up traveling farther than she preferred
down a small gravel road. She slowed as the small stones kicked up from the ground and pinged against her car. She finally
reached a flat, dusty lot, its concrete cracked and broken with weeds and grass sprouting indiscriminately over the marred
surface. As she got out and surveyed the area, she noted a small pasture that thickened as it went from a sparse spread of
dry grass, into a clump of brush, and finally a distant line trees. The trees darkened into something lush and imposing, hiding
anything that might lay beyond. Clouds of dust from her recent passage floated through the air. The setting sun gave the dusty
clouds an orange glow and made them look like large puffs of rouge, carelessly blown into the wind. There was no sound after
she stepped out into the muggy air and shut the car door. An old saying came to mind – something about May showers –
as she breathed in the humidity.
She followed a rocky walkway that led into one of several huge, gutted warehouses
along the old industrial route. Sunlight peeked through worn boards on the walls and through the corrugated tin roof. She
could see a particularly large bird's nest sitting up high in the far corner of the building. Various pieces of wood and small
pieces of twisted metal cluttered the otherwise bare floor. A very loud bang coming from overhead had her jolting in response.
She looked up and saw the owner of the bird's nest maneuver through a hole created by a mangled roof panel. Her hand went
to her chest as if to calm down the beat of her heart which had consequently sped to a frightfully high rate. An ugly white
structure that reminded Alayna of a cross between an old refrigerator and the porta-potties she'd seen at construction sites
stood leaning, rusty and obviously worn, in the center of the dirt floor.
Things aren't always as they appear.
She looked around curiously, keeping her father's words in mind as she crossed the floor to the
white structure. She immediately noticed a keyhole and tried the keys. The second turned, and butterflies began to dance restlessly
in her stomach as she heard the lock click. She thought the old rusty door might fall off in her hand as it creaked under
the strain of being pulled open.
* * *
"Is anyone here?" She pushed the door open into what appeared to be a well-furnished
living area. She noticed in front of her an entertainment center that held a television, DVD player and various stereo components.
As she entered, she saw the room was dark, but for a glow that came from a lamp at the far end of the room. A sofa and loveseat,
a recliner and accent tables gave it a homey feel. The other rooms’ antiseptic smell was replaced by something strong,
but pleasant, and definitely male, though she couldn’t place the scent.
"Hello?"
Again, nothing.
She walked further into the room and a movement in her peripheral vision had her
whirling around quickly to see a stranger: very tall, very trim, and most certainly - in her professional opinion - not the
result of any DNA taken from Daniel Jordan.
* * *
"Is anyone here?" She pushed the door open into what appeared to be a well-furnished
living area. She noticed in front of her an entertainment center that held a television, DVD player and various stereo components.
As she entered, she saw the room was dark, but for a glow that came from a lamp at the far end of the room. A sofa and loveseat,
a recliner and accent tables gave it a homey feel. The other rooms’ antiseptic smell was replaced by something strong,
but pleasant, and definitely male, though she couldn’t place the scent.
"Hello?"
Again, nothing.
She walked further into the room and a movement in her peripheral vision had her
whirling around quickly to see a stranger: very tall, very trim, and most certainly - in her professional opinion - not the
result of any DNA taken from Daniel Jordan.
* * *
DJ was intrigued by how small her hands were compared to his when she put them over
his and took the cup away. He couldn’t help but notice her shapely backside as she bent to rummage through the refrigerator,
coming out with a container of Gatorade. When she turned back to him, he tried desperately to stop the grin that was quickly
spreading across his face but failed miserably.
"Cute. Very cute."
"Well, surely you have enough confidence in your father’s research and medical
capabilities to know that he wouldn’t leave something harmful within my reach." He picked up his cup and sipped. "Not
that I would do anything to deliberately harm myself."
The uncertainty she felt in dealing with him was obvious and DJ felt slightly guilty
for putting her through the charade. She quickly replaced the Gatorade and returned to her cup of coffee.
"My father failed to mention you had a sense of humor as well." DJ could tell humility
was definitely not one of her strong points as her temper became progressively apparent.
"Yes, he inserted the humor chip when I was ten years old." He took on a stiff,
conforming voice that bounced off the concrete walls and carried through the hollowness of the room. "Fantastic, isn’t
it Alayna?" DJ’s amusement was a welcome change from the solitude. He could almost envision the wheels turning in that
pretty little head. She was probably expecting a robot of sorts. Some kind of mutant, perhaps.
"Listen. I don’t know who or what you think you are, but my position here
is clear and my name is Dr. Grant."
He said nothing, but peered at her from over the rim of his cup as he continued
sipping his coffee.
When he didn’t respond, she continued. "I don’t know how things worked
between you and my father, but I take my work very seriously and you, DJ-1, are a project. Don’t forget it."
She stormed out and DJ watched her dramatic exit end with her standing in the middle
of his living room, looking completely flustered and totally lost.
When she turned back to him furiously, he simply pointed. "The office is that way."
* * *
She was startled by the soft ring of a wall-mounted telephone. She pondered for
a moment, then picked it up.
"Yes?"
"Alayna. How nice to hear your voice. Let me offer you my condolences. I’m
afraid I missed you at the reception."
Yeah, too busy with the blonde, she wanted to say. "Thank you, Senator."
"I see your father clued you in as to our experiment."
She gritted her teeth. It was his experiment, you pompous jackass. "Yes.
Yes I’m catching up on the research now. Is there anything I can do for you?" It chilled her to offer services to such
a man.
"No, I just wanted to check and see that everything was as it should be and to ask
if there was anything you needed." He spoke with southern charm and his attempt to sound concerned made Alayna’s skin
crawl.
"I’m sure if I come across the need for something you’ll be the first
to know. Now, if you don’t mind, I was in the midst of some tests." She rubbed her arms, attempting to diminish her
chills.
"Ahh like father like daughter, only he didn’t have your legs," he chuckled
into the phone.
Alayna cleared her throat and glared at a tiny spot on the wall. "Yes, well Senator,
thank you for checking but everything is fine." She hung up quickly and gave a sound of disgust.
"Such a personable man, isn’t he?" Alayna turned to see DJ standing in the
doorway, leaning like a perfectly carved and chiseled statue, against the doorframe. He was clad in jeans that could have
been manufactured just for the purpose of fitting perfectly around his trim waist and against the bulge and muscle of his
groin and thighs.
She cleared her throat and turned away from him. "He’s simply disgusting."
Realizing she was talking about the man’s genetic parent, she cast an apologetic glance. "No offense."
"None taken. I agree. Hard to believe isn’t it, that we’re practically
the same man?"
* * *
DJ had always hated the small bed he was given. It reminded him of his solitude
simply by having room to comfortably accommodate only one. For this reason, it wasn't unusual for him to fall asleep on the
couch - most often with a science magazine or journal as a scant blanket for his chest.
Tonight he awoke to the sound of soft snoring, clearly coming from the office. He
stood and stretched before heading towards the light that peeked through the cracked door, casting a long, luminescent sliver
over the gray commercial carpet.
Inside, he saw Alayna slumped over a heap of files. She had taken her hair down
and he decided he preferred it that way; hanging down like a dark blonde curtain over her shoulders and down to the middle
of her back. She had taken off the small gold earrings she wore and they were laying on the edge of the desk blotter. She
was half-smiling and he wondered what she might be dreaming.
He rounded the desk and pulled her back towards him before lifting her up into his
arms. Her head rolled off the three-inch pillow of papers and notes, and then finally nestled into the crook of his neck.
She was petite and somehow fragile, but he still found it a bit awkward trying to squeeze through the small space of the office.
He accidentally bumped the desk lamp with his elbow and her arm came up over his shoulder. Not as if she meant to put it there,
but more like flung it there, and it made him smile.
Her scent was simple, like a lotion or soap - not a perfume. Perhaps it was her
shampoo he smelled that reminded him of something sweet-tasting. She no longer snored, but breathed slowly and deeply. Each
time her breath hit the sensitive skin of his neck, his muscles tensed in response and the warmth spread through him like
a summer breeze.
He carried her to a small room off the kitchenette where he seldom ventured. Plain
and institutional, he found it utterly oppressive. A small metal desk sat along one wall while the only thing in the form
of décor was a wall poster he'd gotten of a sunset. Still, the small square of paper didn't give enough brilliance to the
room to make it any less drab. The bed was small but, he supposed, more comfortable than sleeping on the desk in the office.
She didn't rouse when he laid her down, but curled her knees up as if trying to
stay warm. He went to pull off her shoes but noticed she'd already done it. Obviously she wasn't the vain type, but somehow
he wasn't surprised to see her small feet were tipped with polished soft pink nails.
He pulled the neatly folded blanket from the foot of the bed and started to cover her body. She
stirred slightly, turned to her side and her hair fell over her face just as the hem of her dress reached the middle of her
thighs. He tried to ignore the length of her legs and reached down to pull the strands of hair aside, pleased with the satiny
feel of her skin on his fingertips. He realized she brightened the room much more than any poster could, even as she lay beneath
the thick quilt. He watched her sleep for a moment before heading back to the couch and closing the door behind him.
* * *
They sat silently, drinking their coffee and Alayna found herself studying the neatly-trimmed
fingernails of his hands which stayed wrapped around his coffee cup. She wondered how they could be so large and so . . .manly,
given his surroundings and obvious seclusion from the elements. The length of his fingers, the neatly-trimmed fingernails.
. . she began seeing utterly unprofessional visions of what those hands could do.
In her momentary enchantment, she reached up absently and touched one of his fingers.
A little crackle and a tiny, blue flash accompanied the small shock of electricity that had them both jerking their hands
back. She didn’t realize until then that she’d touched him and was immediately abashed.
"I’m sorry." The heat of her embarrassment made its way up her neck until
she felt it, hot and unyielding, at the tops of her ears and prominently in her cheeks.
DJ, now wide awake, smiled a slow, lazy smile. "It’s okay. I gotta learn to
walk without shuffling my feet on that carpet." He motioned to the living room. "I do that a lot."
"No, no I shouldn’t have-"
He shook his head, waved a dismissive hand. "No problem. It’s okay."
He spoke benevolently and though his intentions were kind, his ease only made her
feel more foolish, so Alayna said nothing in response.
After he finished his cup of coffee, he stood and pulled out a laminated sheet from
one of the kitchen drawers. He handed it to her with a formal nod. She glanced over it and saw a meticulously laid out list
of grocery items, along with all of the nutritional values of each item listed. The efficiency and thoroughness didn't surprise
her. Her father had always been that way.
"I'll be ready in twenty minutes," DJ informed her.
Surprised, she held her cup mid-way to her mouth, his statement interrupting her
last sip. Okay, she thought curiously, so much for seclusion from the elements. "Uhm, actually, I have other
errands to run so you probably wouldn't want to tag along."
DJ seemed slightly annoyed. "It's okay Dr. Grant. I won't jump out of the car and
flee, if that's what you're worried about."
Caught off guard by his morning grumpiness, she stumbled over her words. "That's-
that's not what I meant to imply. Not at all." Though her statement was true, she realized the possibility of that risk hadn’t
occurred to her.
"Well, I'm sure if you go read some of your notes, you'll find I always accompanied
your father on the shopping trips. As well as other things."
So much for the later discussion, she thought. The way he said it made her feel
defensive and she stood quickly. "Look," she leaned on the table, slapped her hands flat against the surface. "In the past
forty-eight hours, I’ve buried my father, endured the process of greeting people I’ve never heard of, been given
a scientific miracle-" her voice cracked and crumbled and she heaved a frustrated sigh. "And now I have to find a way to phone
my lab and explain to them – without telling them – that I’m undertaking a secret cloning experiment that
goes way beyond every scientific ethical boundary while also putting me under the foot of a man I deplore. I can guarantee
you, this is not your typical grocery shopping spree."
I wasn’t DJ, she knew, that brought on the outburst but she couldn’t
help herself. She hadn’t failed to notice his initial amusement, nor how that amusement had switched like a light to
compassion when her voice broke. It was that – his compassion, that horrid apologetic look like that of a scolded child
– that had her composure returning as if to bar him from seeing any particle of emotion in her. She stumbled –
adding to her humiliation – as she stalked out of the kitchenette and back to the office to collect her purse and jacket.
* * *
Before she reached the door that led from the workout room to the laboratory, there
was a knock and the door opened. She was suddenly filled with dread, knowing Daniel Jordan was the only other person likely
to have the keys to the lab. For reasons she didn’t understand or want to validate, she wished DJ were there.
"Senator. I'm surprised to see you here," Alayna tried to disguise her apprehension.
"Well, I don't know why you'd be surprised." He offered an easy smile that made
his face somehow fold as if his nose were being sucked into his head. The vision made Alayna's stomach knot up.
"I'm sorry you caught me on my way out."
"Why don't we have a little chat first, hmm?" He walked boldly into the examination
room, motioning her with a jerk of his head to have a seat. She reluctantly did so, wishing she hadn't snapped at DJ earlier
so that perhaps he would be there right now. Being alone in the same room with Senator Jordan gave her the same pleasure as
a root canal.
"What can I do for you, Senator?" She draped her jacket over her legs and set her
purse on top, hoping the gesture would give further indication to her visitor that she was leaving.
"I don't know that it's so much what you could do for me, as what I could do for
you."
"I'm afraid I don't understand. I already explained to you there is nothing necessary
at the moment." Though she sensed his perversion, she tried to avoid the subject. "I've already assured you that I would let
you know should any needs or problems arise."
"And I know that you're a perfectly capable scientist and I trust that you would."
"Well, good then. We have that settled." Alayna wished for fresh air. His smell
was nauseating. "Now if you don't mind, it seems it's grocery day and I have a few phone calls to make."
"Just a minute." He moved closer to her and she felt she might suffocate. "Alayna,"
he dragged out the last syllable of her name as if cooing to her and she felt sickeningly intimidated. "I've watched you grow
up and become a beautiful, blossoming young scientist and woman." He stood a yard in front of her now, and she noticed a small
trail of coffee drips dried on his shirt where his belly had apparently caught the spill. He smelled of cigars and leather
with a slight hint of very unpleasant perspiration. When his chubby hand came up to touch her face, she saw his wristwatch
wrapped so tightly around his arm that pouches of fat rose along each side of the leather band. She stood quickly, clinging
to her purse and jacket. The wheels of the physicians chair squeaked slightly as it rolled from the bump of her calves to
knock lightly against the wall behind her.
Her fear and frustration rose from her gut, up her throat and came out in a rush
of disgust. "Listen, my father was forced to endure your tyrannical, self-indulgent position. I always tolerated you out of
respect for him but I no longer have that obligation, and I do not intend on tolerating your blatant attempts to seduce me."
Jordan's expression went from disbelief to sickly humorous as he relaxed, leaning
against the examination table and crossing his ankles. "Let's not get things started on the wrong foot. I merely came to offer
my help, perhaps help you to relax and unwind." She could see his top lip curve up beneath his moustache as his mouth contorted
into a mocking grin. "And, besides, it seems to me you're in quite a delicate position to be so contrite." She watched his
eyes travel from her face down to her breasts and back again. "But that's okay," he assured her. "Your cockiness only goes
to show that I've always been right about you. You're quite the tiger under those unflattering clothes."
The words were a worse insult coming from a man whose patent leather shoes appeared
ready to burst from the pressure of his fat feet. "Actually, I'd say the same of you, Senator. The way I understand it, you
had every bit as much to do with this whole scheme as my father did. Perhaps more. Which puts you in a far more delicate situation.
In fact, I'd say it would be in your best interest to keep in mind how much my position could destroy yours."
She was surprised at his quickness as he moved in front of her, leaving no room
for her to escape. She heard herself yelp when his hand reached up and fisted the hair at the nape of her neck. The items
she'd held as a shield dropped with a thud as she instinctively reached up and grabbed his wrist in an attempt to ease the
pressure.
"Don't mess with me little girl. I can ruin you," he snarled. He released his grip
and she closed her eyes in disgust as his knuckles went from her neck and brushed against her face affectionately, his expression
softening with a sinister sneer. She struggled with rage and fear, just as the door opened behind them.
She caught a brief glimpse of the senator's surprise just before she saw DJ's hand
come down on the man's wrist. She watched DJ shove the senator back as if he weighed no more than a small child.
"Do not touch her." DJ spoke slowly, dangerously, through his teeth. Each word was
said as it were one sentence. She saw, again, the muscles of his jaw had tightened as he held the Senator's shocked gaze with
a fury that had Alayna swallowing nervously.
"I believe she told you we were leaving."
* * *
[Gina Reeves' dog, Rusty, has collapsed while walking in the park. Brad is the hero in this novel-in-progress. He's a stranger
in town, attending his mother's funeral. I have included three snips from the story, each from a different chapter].
. . .As she rushed to him and knelt down, tears stung her eyes and she dropped her head to his bushy neck, stroking his
heaving torso. "You’re okay boy. Just hang on." There had been many times when she worried about returning home to find
Rusty dead and she thought she had prepared herself for it. But now, as he lay helpless and panting laboriously, she knew
she was never prepared.
She turned to see the couple that had sat at the pond’s edge was gone. Nobody else was within sight and, though traffic
filled the nearby streets, she could hear nothing beyond Rusty’s gasping. A Quick Mart was only a couple hundred yards
away and she stood quickly, glancing back at the dog before racing towards the store.
As she neared the street, the traffic light changed and she weaved her way through the cars, nearly running into Brad’s
familiar Camaro as it rolled with the traffic. When he rolled down the window, she didn’t let him speak.
"Please… " Her breath was gone and her throat ached from the coldness of the air mixed with the pain in her heart.
When he pulled the car to the curb and got out, Gina grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the park. "Please, it’s
my dog."
"Whoa, whoa slow down. What’s wrong? Was he hit?"
"My dog, Rusty, he’s in the park." The words tumbled out of her even as she pulled Brad to the grass with a trembling
urgency. "He won’t get up."
Brad broke into a run with Gina and they drew close to Rusty who heaved with each breath as he lay on the grass.
"Okay calm down. I’ll assume he doesn’t bite."
"No. What? No, he doesn’t bite. I don’t . . . I need to get him to the vet."
Brad reached down and rubbed Rusty’s head. "Come on, old boy." A deep groan sounded from the dog as Brad hefted him
up effortlessly and headed quickly to the car. . .
- - -
From Chapter 7, same story. . .
Brad’s rather furtive grin changed, as he opened the bathroom door, to a pleasure he was grateful to feel when the
tiny golden puppy scampered to his feet, its little claws clicking excitedly against the floor. "Hey boy," he whispered as
he picked up the puppy. "Shh," he cooed as the puppy yipped and lapped his tongue affectionately all over Brad’s face.
"You’re supposed to be a surprise."
He stood cuddling the puppy absently, a smile spreading over his face as he recalled the image of Gina standing on the
beach, her hair damp and tangled, falling over her breasts in sandy, stringy bunches. Her face had been red, Brad supposed
as much from the cold as from embarrassment because her lips held a vague blue tint. It had been in that moment that he realized
she was more beautiful than he had noticed before. Perhaps, he surmised, because he had been detached and distracted, given
the circumstances under which they had first seen one another. As he approached the stairs, he could make out the voice of
Becky whispering, rather loudly, above him.
". . .and he could go with us. He’d probably like learning about it. He seems like a pretty intelligent guy –
he’s definitely a looker." With that, Brad had to grin.
Her voice hushed the instant his footsteps echoed on the stairwell. He paused as he reached the second floor and peered
around the corner to see Becky pulling a beer from the refrigerator and Gina looking thoughtfully out the window. Her expression
was neither sad nor happy and he couldn’t help but smile with the knowledge that he would change that.
"Okay," when he said it, Gina seemed to lurch out of a daydream as she turned to him. "I know it may be a little presumptuous
but it was the best thing I could think of." With that, he rounded the corner and was pleased when Gina’s hands went
to cover her mouth, only slightly subduing a gasp of surprise. Though he couldn’t see it, the shine in her eyes told
him a smile was beneath her hands and he walked over to her, handing the puppy to her as tears welled in her eyes.
"Oh Brad," she said, her voice high, with a motherly undertone as if she spoke to the puppy and not him. "Brad, he’s
adorable." Nearly squeaking, she held the puppy close, and its energetic tongue spread kisses all over her face, licking away
a joyful tear that had slid down her cheek. Holding it away from her for a moment, she inspected the puppy before bringing
it back to her, "Yeah, he," she added with a chuckle and turned to show Becky.
"Look at him," she squealed, walking over to Becky as she stroked the puppy and cooed absently, as if nobody else was in
the room. "Yeah, you’re a feisty one, aren’tcha, boy. Yeah." Brad’s satisfaction grew, his delight reaching
from within him and taking form as a smile that spread widely across his face.
Brad watched, satisfied with the decision to get her a new puppy, as Gina continued to cuddle and stroke it. "He was the
only male left and, unfortunately, he was the runt." This made Gina laugh a robust, whole-hearted laugh that Brad knew came
only from sheer joy, again reassuring him that the idea was a good one. He went to the desk and pulled out a manila folder.
"He’s registered and he’s had his first shots. Here’s all the paperwork." . . . .
-
- -
Chapter 13, Same story. . .
"Well, it’s still in the beginning stages but, yeah, I have a rough idea." He turned to Gina who sat in a stunned
relief she hoped wasn’t obvious. "You gonna eat that fish?" He nodded towards her plate and the untouched food on it.
Before she could answer, he was standing and pulling her to her feet. "Let’s dance, then."
Everything in her mind and heart intertwined in a whirlwind of confusion. She was pleased he would stay but she was aware
it was only for a little while. Long enough for her to fall utterly in love with him. But as he tugged her to the dance floor,
she found no will to protest and was soon comfortably surrounded by his embrace. As he held her and rocked with ease to the
mellow tempo, she realized her struggle to decide whether to hold and move with him, or simply exist for the moment and then
let go, was not just a physical, but an emotional struggle.
"What are you thinking about? You’ve been pretty quiet." Brad’s voice was as much a whisper as it could be
over the music.
Gina closed her eyes and swallowed. She didn’t want to look up, didn’t want him to see the concerns she knew
would be mirrored in her eyes. "I’m thinking. . .you’re a great dancer." She let out a deep breath and smiled
up at him.
"Hmm. I see." He whirled her around. "You’re not bad yourself," his breath seemed to crawl over her, leaving trails
of tiny goose bumps she wished she could rub away. "But that’s not what you were thinking." He stepped back slightly,
still holding her but looking deep into her eyes.
She held his gaze for as long as she could stand it. His aqua eyes could have swallowed her. Finally, she sighed and rested
her head against his chest, wanting him to hold her close. "I’ve had a great day, that’s all. I love your company."
She ran her hand up beneath his jacket, caressed the warmth of his back and was pleased when he tightened his grip on her
hand and pulled her closer. Though the music continued with the same beat, she realized they danced to their own tune, slowly
and softly, vaguely aware of the people around them.
"Well, good because I love your company and I figure that works to my advantage since I’m fairly certain you won’t
turn me down for dinner tomorrow." He smiled and then corrected himself. "Oh, wait. I’m sorry, I mean lunch. I forgot
I have a meeting with someone from Flagler tomorrow."
"Yeah? Prospects for FOCUS?" It was easy, Gina soon realized, to engage Brad in deep conversation by asking about his business
plans. He was sincere and passionate about his work and Gina couldn’t help but respect his determination. They continued
to dance and Gina couldn’t keep her smile from fading as Brad explained his encounter with April DeAngelo. When the
song was over, Gina glanced back to see Becky sitting with her legs crossed over Darrens, and Darren pushing Becky’s
long hair back over her shoulder. Brad held her hand and they walked out to the bonfire where a few other people stood talking
or simply watching the flames lick the night sky.
Brad moved to stand behind Gina and put his arms over her shoulders, crossing them in front of her. Gina leaned into him
and was warmed, standing between the fire and Brad. For a few silent moments, they both watched the fire and Gina relaxed,
letting herself be hypnotized by the light.
"Yes," she finally murmured.
Brad moved his face down from behind and stopped at her ear. "Hmm?"
Gina turned slightly and half-whispered, "I said yes. I’d love to have lunch with you tomorrow."
From the side, she barely saw Brad smile before he turned her to face him, putting his arms around her. When he looked
down into her eyes, she was lost. All notions of control and realism were diminished by the hue of his eyes that had changed
their color to a vivid piercing green. She tried to speak when he lowered his face to hers but her words came out as something
of a whimper when she felt his breath on her lips and his hand move to her hair.
Her mind raced with concerns and fears. She told herself she shouldn’t let this happen, she couldn’t let herself
fall for this man who would walk out of her life, but her body betrayed her and her lips parted and welcomed the butterfly
touch of his. Her hands moved up to run through the glorious black swirls of his hair as his hands moved to her cheek. His
thumb rubbed her face as his mouth came down on hers in an intoxicating kiss. Her muffled moan was returned by the same uncontrolled
sound as Brad reached and fisted her hair and his tongue met with hers in an erotic dance to their own sensual song. He stopped
and taunted her with short, passionate breaths that touched her lips like fire and sent a wave of heat through her and rested
his forehead against hers.
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