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This is a segment from my new novel, The LAST Consort

Patricia was alone in her thoughts as the room seemed to vanish. William stood before her, his lyrical eyes awaiting her response. She became lost in their intensity as they took her hostage. He pulled her away from the solitude she had forced herself into with his gaze, then his smile, his passive but giving smile. He took her hands into his. It was abstract, the feeling about the room and with the disappearance of time, so did go her sense of movement. Forward and backward were like mischievous children playing games and switching places.

She closed her eyes and leaned forward, or was it backward? It didn’t matter because William was right there, his lips were there making contact with hers, his face warm in her hands, his neck strong, his hands tenderly finding their way along her back and through her hair and against her neck. It felt so good to be held by him, to float again, to taste the busyness of his teeth and tongue, how he felt against her. She fought her impulses again, emotionally trying to pull away, but she couldn’t. It felt so right. It felt so good as he held her close to him.  It hadn’t been her intention. But it was the outcome.

Her heart pounded with desire in her chest as he stroked the darkened crevices of her mouth with his tongue. She pressed her body in closer to his, William’s warmth and strength against her frame. Resistance was impossible. Resistance was unimaginable as he stared eye to wanting eye with her, their mouths barely touching, their essences mixing, combining.

William rested his hand against her face. “I need you. I can’t push you away. It would be like holding my breath,” he spoke.

“I was never going to let you anyway.”

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