Dani Harper, author of paranormal romance

James brushed his lips over hers, barely making contact, but she could feel the heat of them. He brushed the corners
of her mouth, then back over her lips, again and again. He touched nothing else, yet every inch of her skin seemed
electrified, abuzz with sensation and want. Slowly, lazily, James nuzzled her face and took possession of her mouth,
cradling her head in one of his large strong hands. Heat. Much more heat.

Jillian had kissed a date once right after he’d taken a swallow of hot coffee. But this was far hotter on many levels, this
was living heat. Not the parched dryness of a fever, but the radiant warmth of an inner fire. She melted into the kiss,
felt her own lips became pliant, supple. She feasted on each hot breath, drawing it into her lungs as if from some sultry
tropical night. His tongue explored softly, lapped at her lips and slid gently alongside hers ... and she had a sudden
mental image of dolphins mating in a heated lagoon.

Her own tongue dared to skim his lips and dart swiftly just inside. She inhaled sharply as he caught it in gentle teeth.
Held it there until she let out her breath in a long slow exhale, then he resumed kissing her. Long and deep and slow
and hot. Again and again. And as he kissed her, James began to stroke her throat from chin to collarbone with a heated
hand.

Her body had relaxed, gone lithe and supple. She barely noticed her shirt parting, her bra disappearing. She did notice
the warmth of his body as he lay close to her. His heat blazed into her skin right through his clothing. Her heart
skidded and skipped as she realized she could feel his erection, hot and straining within his jeans. Her hip was pressed
tightly against the thickness of it.

Suddenly he broke off kissing her and cupped her breast, drew her nipple into the moist heat of his mouth. He suckled
gently at first, letting the reaction of her body guide him. Then James paused for just a moment to breathe deeply, to
inhale as if to pull her scent into his lungs, as a lion or a wolf might savor the subtleties of pheromones newly released.
And to her chagrin, Jillian whimpered a little, missing him already. He bent his head to suckle once more, harder this
time, faster.

Oh! Her breasts felt tight, the nipples hard and seeming to strain towards him. Jillian gasped and bunched her fingers in
his hair. Deep within her core she could feel the sudden hard clenching of her womb, the spread of warmth and
moisture between her thighs.

Dear God, she wanted this man.

His fingers trailed over her flat belly. She was surprised at how exciting that felt, how intimate. Tummies had never
seemed particularly erotic before. But even her elbows were likely to respond to James Macleod. She jumped a little as
his fingers moved further down to barely brush the soft curling hair. She felt nearly wild with wanting him to go on, to
reach further, touch her there. He lifted his head from her breast and sought her lips again, his tongue darting in and
out, in and out, wet and hot. She could no longer think, could barely even breathe. Then without warning he ran his
fingers up the insides of her thighs and stroked lightly across her most sensitive places.

Jillian was certain her heart had stopped. James’s light touch electrified her, fanned tiny embers into a roaring
conflagration. In a split second she had forgotten all, forgotten everything she had ever known except that she wanted
James’s touch, needed, craved his hands, strong and gentle, hot and soothing, on every part of her body.

James! Oh God, James! Don’t stop, please don’t stop. I’m—

There was a ringing in her ears, then a ringing in the room. A doorbell. An alarm. No, a phone. A phone! The dream
vanished like a soap bubble. Jillian’s eyes shot open and she lay there stunned. Awake. Wide, wide awake—and very
unsatisfied.

“Jeez goddamn Louise!” She kicked the blankets off in a fury and got to her feet, wanting to punch something. Cursed
herself, cursed whoever was on the phone (which was still ringing and damned if she was going to answer it) and
most of all, cursed James Macleod. It was bad enough that the man had occupied her waking thoughts far too often,
when she didn't even like him. It was downright unfair for him to start taking over her dreams as well.

She glared at the dreamcatcher on the wall and pointed an accusing finger at it. “You! Why did you let a dream like
that in here?”