Free A Passion Denied by Julie Lessman Page A

kiss. Waves of warmth shuddered through her at the taste of him, and the essence of peppermint was sweet in her mouth.
    “No!” He wrenched back from her hold with disbelief in his eyes.
    Too late. She had never felt like this before. Years of seeking romance from flat parchment pages had not prepared her for this. This rush, this desire . . . her body suddenly alive, and every nerve pulsing with need. All shyness melted away in the heat of her longing, and she pounced again, merging her mouth with his. John Brady, I love you!
    A fraction of a second became eons as she awaited his rejection. His body was stiff with shock, but no resistance came. And in a sharp catch of her breath, he drew her to him with such force that she gasped, the sound silenced by the weight of his mouth against hers. He groaned and cupped the back of her head as if to delve into her soul, a man possessed. His lips broke free to wander her throat, and shivers of heat coursed through her veins. In ragged harmony, their shallow breathing billowed into the night while his arms possessed her, molding her body to his.
    “Oh, Brady, I’m so in love with you,” she whispered.
    Her words severed his hold as neatly as the blade of a guillotine. He staggered to his feet, and icy cold replaced the warmth of his arms. She opened her eyes and saw pain in his. She grabbed his arm. “Brady, can’t you see? You love me too . . . not as a friend or a sister, but as a woman.”
    “God help me, Beth, I can’t love you that way.” He stared like a zombie, chest heaving with jagged breaths that swirled into the cool night air, drifting away—just like her dreams.
    She reached for his hand, but he pulled it away. She blinked. “You just did, John. Nothing can convince me otherwise. You love me . . . and you want me . . . just like I want you. Why can’t you admit it?”
    His tone was rough with emotion. “Because it’s wrong, Elizabeth. You’re a little sister to me, nothing more.”
    She rose, along with her ire. “I see. And that’s how you kiss a sister?”
    Blood gorged his cheeks. His shoulders straightened as he stood stiff and tall. An uncommon show of anger glinted in his dark eyes. “I regret what happened tonight, and I apologize. Please give my thanks to your mother and my goodbyes to your family.” He moved toward the stairs.
    “Brady, wait!” She latched onto his arm while tears pooled in her eyes. “You can’t leave like this. Not now. I opened my heart to you . . . and you took it when you gave me that kiss.”
    The anger in his eyes faded to pain. “I know, Beth. Forgive me. It won’t happen again.” His back was rigid as he strode down the steps.
    She ran after him. “No! Don’t leave—please! Friends don’t leave when you need them the most.”
    He stopped, hand poised on the gate, and the coolness of his manner was totally foreign. He turned with a look of agony she had never seen.
    “No, Beth, they don’t.”
    And without another word, he unlocked the gate and hurried away. Fading quickly—just like her hope—into the darkest of nights.

4
    Lizzie shivered and wept on the swing until all that was left was a wet blotch on her face, swollen eyes, and a broken heart she hoped no one would see. She squared her shoulders and rose to head inside, determined to present a calm demeanor. She quietly opened the front door and carefully shut it again. With a lift of her chin, she hurried to the stairs, desperate to escape notice.
    “Lizzie? Where’s Brady?” Charity stood on the bottom step, her swollen belly effectively blocking her way. She blinked in surprise, one hand on her stomach and the other bracing her back as she studied Lizzie with concern. “He didn’t leave already, did he?”
    Lizzie nodded and blinked hard to ward off more tears. “Will you please tell everyone that he said goodbye and I said good night? I don’t feel well. I’m going to bed.”
    Charity touched her arm. “Faith and I will be right