Free Moon Cursed by Lori Handeland

could be wearing a cologne called Wicked. Was there a cologne called Wicked?
    She pressed against him. He was all sharp angles and sleek muscle, while she was just round and soft. That had always bothered her, being round instead of slim, soft instead of hard. Right now she couldn’t think why.
    Her mind spun away on sensation. His skin blessedly cool against her hot, hot hands. His mouth so clever—a nip here, a caress there. Who would ever have believed that a bit of pain could bring so much pleasure?
    His palm at her waist, his thumb stroked her belly. She arched, wishing he would lift that hand, that thumb, and—
    He cupped her breast, the chill of his skin sifting through the cotton, making her nipple tighten even harder. When he brushed the tingling bud—back and forth, back and forth—mimicking the motion with his tongue against the tip of hers, she moaned.
    Her hands in his hair clenched; she tilted his mouth just so. She’d forgotten where she was. She’d forgotten who she was. This man— Liam —had become the whole world.
    Something splashed in the loch—close enough that she felt a hint of spray. An instant later they had both dropped their arms to their sides, disentangled their tongues, and taken one giant step backward.
    Kris was trembling—from the cold, the shock, the lust, she wasn’t sure. Maybe all three.
    “What was that?” she whispered.
    “Sturgeon,” he said quickly.
    She’d meant what was that in relation to the strange sense of need that seemed to overtake her whenever he came near. All she wanted to do was kiss him, touch him, and more.
    She’d never been tempted by a stranger, seduced as if she had no will to resist a man whose name, until only moments ago, she had not even known.
    The splash came again. Ripples spread toward the shore. “That sounds pretty big,” she said.
    “They are.” Liam frowned at the water. “Big. The sturgeons. They can grow t’ be twenty feet long. Some have mistaken them for sharks.”
    “Or lake monsters?” she murmured.
    “Aye.”
    “Do you believe in lake monsters?”
    He glanced at her, and his lips, gorgeous, wet, and clever, quirked. “I think they could exist.”
    “Do you think Nessie exists?”
    His smile faded, and his deep blue gaze held hers. “I’ll not lie to ye. I’ve lived here all my life,” Liam continued, “and I have never once seen Nessie.”
    Usually when someone said they wouldn’t lie, it was right before they lied their butts off, yet, strangely, she believed him.
    “You’d be the one of the few in Drumnadrochit,” she said. “Or one of the few who admits it.”
    “Aye,” he repeated, but she wasn’t sure which part of her statement he was agreeing with. Reaching out, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Best get inside before ye freeze, Kris.”
    Her name, uttered in that low, sexy burr, made her shiver again, and she lifted her hands to rub at her bare arms. “Aren’t you cold?”
    “Not anymore.”
    “You could…” She paused. “Come in.”
    He looked at the loch, a quick, sharp glance like he’d heard something, although she hadn’t. “I have to go.” He turned away.
    “Wait.” Kris reached for his arm but let her hand fall back to her side before she touched him. She’d never been clingy—had learned long ago that clinging only made people run away faster—and she wasn’t going to start now.
    Liam turned with a lift of one dark brow.
    “Where do you live?” she asked. “What do you do?”
    “Do?” he echoed.
    Was that expression too American?
    “For a job,” she clarified.
    “Whatever comes along.”
    Before she could ask what that meant or point out that he hadn’t answered either of her questions, he jogged down the shore, disappearing into the sudden darkness caused by the fall of the moon.
    The eastern sky had begun to lighten. She should really go inside. Instead, Kris stayed right where she was, hugging herself for warmth and watching the sun rise.
    As it