Free Love of Her Lives by Sharon Clare

glared — not charming at all.
    “I’ll not apologise for it,” he said. “But I give you my word, I’ll not kiss you until you ask me. I know you will, Beth, and in case you suffer doubt, I will bring you to your knees. I’m a man of my word, but you’d best not forget, I am a man.”
    She groaned, flicked the light off, and pulled the blanket up to her neck. Tell me something I don’t know. She’d never met a man who was more man than this man.
    Ten minutes later, Beth lay awake in contemplation — her dad’s idea . I can’t impress upon you enough, Beth, when you’re unsure, spend time in contemplation before you act. Better late than never, she supposed.
    Calum might be intent on saving her from some evil, but she’d not forgotten where he put his hand when he carried her out of the house. A carnal jolt of heat had penetrated her so exquisitely. Her body had never reacted that way to a man.
    She gasped . I will bring you to your knees. Oh no! She’d followed him like a puppy dog because he’d felt good. The physical thrill had superseded her reason. Just like her mother who’d hardly come up for air between men. What did that say about her ability to steer clear of men–hopping behaviour?
    Good thing her rational brain had finally kicked in despite her exhaustion. Come morning, she would be out of there — without Calum. He wasn’t a threat, no way. She would lose him easily. Beth peered over the blankets at the dark form softly breathing in the chair across the room. Sorry, warrior, some other life perhaps.

Chapter 11
It Takes a Tropical Thief
    Calum woke at first light with the room still black as night. He pulled back the curtain to see trees tinged faintly in dawn’s grey then he let the drape fall back in place. As his vision adjusted to the dark, he moved silently to the shower. Standing under the hot spray, he heard a soft sound from the bedroom. Disappointment washed over him, even though he had expected it. Beth was going to run.
    He left the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and stepped into the vestibule. Her hand was wrapped around the doorknob to the room.
    “Don’t you need these?” He held her bra and panties washed clean the night before.
    She jumped. “Geez, you scared me half to death. Oh …” She stopped in mid–sentence, mouth open showing him the pale rose of her tongue.
    Good. She was still his Bethia. He remembered the effect her near naked, glistening skin had on him. With the woman rendered speechless, eyes fixated on his torso, he stood and silently offered — protection, promise, pleasure — and not in that particular order.
    “I-I” She lowered her head. When she spoke, her gaze hit the floor and missed the glint of self–satisfaction in his eye.
    “I was going to get some coffee,” she said finally.
    “Wait, I’ll go with you.”
    She sighed. “I may as well use the bathroom first.”
    Standing in her way, he moved only the slightest, so she would have to brush against his skin if she wanted to pass, or ask him to move. She didn’t ask. He felt his blood grow warmer — progress. As she squeezed sideways, strands of her hair, the softest corn–silk, caressed his chest. He halted her by slipping his arm across the doorway. Shifting slightly, he leaned in close, a mere hair’s width between their bodies.
    She looked up, rose pink lips parted slightly. He lowered his mouth toward hers, so close to taking her, his mind on a slow, passion–infused kiss. Come to me, he urged silently, careful to keep his thoughts to himself. She moved a fraction then hesitated. Come, Bethia.
    She wasn’t ready. He gently brushed her mouth with his then tugged her upper lip into his mouth to taste her with a flick of his tongue before releasing her. By God, it took self–restraint. He ran the backs of his fingers along her cheekbone.
    “Good morning to you, lass,” he purred. Then he left her pressed against the door frame. A few moments passed before she