Free Kiss of Surrender by Sandra Hill Page A

meant that they continued to sway from side to side in a close embrace.
    Holy clouds! Modern men have it good! Dancing as foresport? Whoever would have predicted that? Lot less energy required to get a woman in the mood!
    But, no, he had to get his mind off that sex pathway to nowhere and on to the matter at hand. He inhaled and exhaled before saying, “I am really sorry.”
    “For what?”
    “For hurting your feelings.”
    “You overestimate your powers.”
    “There is no excuse for a vang . . . a man to use words as weapons with a woman,” he barreled on, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Yes, you provoke me. Sorely, betimes. And, yes, the mere sight of you ignites this spark within me, and I must needs either kill you or kiss you. And, yes, you are forbidden fruit to this hungry soul. And, yes, I have had two bottles of beer, but I am not drukkinn by any means, lest it be drunk with lust, which men have been known to release in anger when unrequited, but still . . .” He released a long breath after that ridiculously long blather. “Please accept my apology.”
    “That is the most half-assed apology I have ever heard.” With her hands still on his shoulders, she leaned back to see his face better.
    The arching of her body caused her nether parts to rub against his crotch, and he could swear he saw stars behind his eyelids. Or maybe it was just the disco-style lights blinking off her belly button ring or off her breasts that were nigh naked under the little sparkly stretch top. One flick of my finger and it would be gone. Do I dare? Maybe if I . . .
    “Somehow I don’t see you as the humble type. Did Cage tell you to apologize?”
    Shaking his head to clear it, he looked down at her and smiled. “Cage called me a dumb shit and likened me to an armadillo crossing a superhighway every time I am around you.”
    “Smart guy, that Cage!”
    He squeezed her hips in reprimand.
    “So you’re bird-dogging me now because Cage told you to.”
    “That is not what I said.” Bird-dogging? He knew what that meant, and it was not an attractive picture. Nor did he like the image of himself as an armadillo. Hah! She ought to beware of him lest his fangs emerged full-throttle. She would know then that he more resembled a wolf . . . a fierce, proud, beauteous beast of the wild.
    Nicole must have noticed the indignant expression on his face because she tilted her head in question.
    “A dog? A smelly, ball-licking, hairy hound? That is how you see me?”
    Her eyes widened before she laughed. “Get over yourself.”
    Bird-dogging? Trond could still not get over that assessment. He had never chased a woman in all his sorry life, and he was not about to start now with the most irksome female to walk the planet. He gritted his teeth and told her, “Must you missay me at every turn? That is not why I followed you. I saw the hurt in your eyes, and I was ashamed of myself.” There! That is all the humility I am going to engage in. Take it or leave it.
    “Oh good Lord! That wasn’t hurt, you sorry excuse for a sweet talker, you. It was anger. And even if you had the power to hurt my feelings, which you don’t, the last thing I need from the likes of you is a pity party.”
    I knew this would happen. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. That’s what happens when a man apologizes to a woman. Sets himself up like a target for the arrows of a shrew’s verbal darts.
    “Frankly, I’m the one who needs to apologize for dousing you with beer.”
    Huh? Oh. Well, that is better. Maybe she is not such a shrew, after all.
    “I don’t usually behave in such an impulsive way. Even when I’m provoked.”
    Nay, she is a shrew, all right. “Apology accepted,” he said quickly before her blathering tongue could launch more insult bombs at him, but then he thought of something else. Do I sense an opportunity here? “Shall we kiss and make up?”
    “Only if you want a karate chop to your family jewels!”
    They were still only swaying