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"You have a sexy way of eating. You should have seen your tongue, the way you licked the mousse off of that spoon." She watched the corners of his lips turn upwards. His teeth were white and perfectly straight. Every nerve ending in her body was alert at his closeness. A blush crept up her cheeks as she tried to keep her breathing under control. She was certain he could hear her heart pounding.

"You drove Frank wild, but I don't think you were aware of what you were doing."

"You certainly were aware of it." Annie croaked. She was so excited she held her breath. His lips were close enough to kiss.

"Of course I was. I always appreciate a woman with a talented tongue." He placed one hand on Annie's shoulder. She thought he was going to pull her towards him, but he only tapped her with his fingers. "Your milk is almost ready. Hurry and pour before it boils. There is nothing more nauseating than scalded milk."

"The milk can wait." She murmured, rubbing her hands along the taut muscles of his waist. His breath hitched at her touch. Her yearning for him was as strong as her desire to own the house. She decided it was about time she went after what she wanted and not waited for it to come to her. She brushed her lips against his, cool and sweet in the night. His next movement surprised her. Strong hands slid through her hair, gliding and stroking her in a gentle dance of his fingers. She wasn't expecting such gentleness from a man who seemed ready to burst out of his own skin. Long fingers glided through her hair, pulling at her scalp in a flurry of wicked excitement. With one deft movement she untied the black ribbon that held his ponytail. It fell to the floor. She ran her fingers through his soft, long hair, massaging the pliable scalp behind his ears, and he groaned with pleasure. His tongue lapped at the inside of her mouth, seeking out every open space, tasting her deeply, leaving a tang of sweet champagne in his wake. She shuddered, and his body answered in kind. She tossed back her head and took in a few deep breaths. The kitchen spun around her. Heat surged in her groin, and her legs felt as if they melted under her. She did not know how long they could hold herweight. His warm lips grazed along the pulse that trip-hammered in her throat. She ground one hip into his growing erection. He lowered his head to her shoulder and groaned.

She wanted him and she wanted him now, against her better judgment. She couldn't remember the last time Frank had kissed her like that, if he ever had. Her lovemaking with Frank had grown dry and rote, the initial spark, what little there was, having died out in recent weeks. This man, whose strong fingers rippled across her back, made her blood rush like it had never rushed before. When would she ever see him again? Chances were she never would.