Free Where You Least Expect by Lydia Rowan

had no interest in trying to figure out. At this moment, all that mattered was feeling her lips under his, kissing her until she forgot everything but the need to kiss him back. But he wouldn’t rush this, and he wouldn’t rush her. If she showed the slightest hesitation, he’d let her go. He prayed she wouldn’t, the unexpected desire gripping him making him almost frantic.
    And it appeared his prayers had been answered. She didn’t pull away; if anything, she tilted her head to give him better access, moving her lips up to him in offering, one that he took. The first press of his lips against hers was simultaneously a homecoming and entirely new experience. This was Verna, his irritating next-door neighbor, but it was also Verna, a smart, funny and, something he hadn’t really noticed until just recently, desirable woman.
    He grazed his lips across hers, the touch a mere whisper, but even that faint contact sent a shiver through his body that settled in his cock, that low tug of arousal heightening by the moment. He pressed harder, seeking more of the satiny-soft feel of her lush lips beneath his. When he pressed even harder, she opened her lips on a sigh, and he swooped his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth, releasing a sigh of his own at the first taste of her. Her lips slackened, and he heard and felt her sharp intake of breath, her body going stiff. But he didn’t stop, instead teasing her with his lips and tongue, and after a heartbeat she responded, tentative at first, but then growing bolder, stroking her tongue against his and then exploring his mouth as he’d explored hers. Then she grew even bolder, running her hands up his biceps to his shoulders, locking her fingers at the base of his neck.
    Then she pulled back abruptly as if she’d been struck by lightning. He looked at her, feeling a rush of masculine satisfaction at the sharp desire that was clear in her gaze and at the sight of her puffy, kiss-swollen lips.
    She smiled wistfully and turned.
    “That was amazing. Please don’t do it again,” she said.
    Then she walked out of the door.

Chapter Seven
    Verna cast another worried glance at the sky, and the heavy gray clouds that she saw sent a spike of apprehension through her chest. It had been gloomy yesterday and all through the morning, and the weatherman had forecasted a storm and then a cold snap that would sweep through later in the evening, bringing with it sleet and snow. Snow was fairly common up in the more mountainous areas but was still rare enough to inspire that uniquely Southern fear and excitement in Thornehill Springs. It had been the talk of the town, with the news almost entirely devoted to the impending storm.
    When she’d woken this morning, Verna had been intent on staying in; her little car had no four-wheel drive and it wouldn’t have made a difference because she had not the faintest clue how to drive on snow or ice. But as the day had progressed, the forecast had worsened, and the reporters had speculated the storm could mean several days of snow and thus limited mobility. She had provisions, though she’d thought it probably wouldn’t have hurt to grab a few extra things. But she’d had a more pressing concern. She’d still needed fabric for Blakely’s pants, and it had seemed prudent to take advantage of the time and make sure everything was perfect if she was going to be at home for a while. Mind made up, she’d dashed out, hoping to make the quick twenty-five-minute trip and be back home before it started to rain.
    The plan had been a misguided, calamitous disaster.
    She’d gotten to the fabric store and been pretty efficient in selecting her choices, but the trip home had been a nightmare. In the forty-five minutes between leaving her house and leaving the fabric store, traffic had more than quadrupled, and what had been a barren parking lot when she’d arrived had been stuffed to capacity by the time she left. Reasonable, given the big supermarket that