Free A Kiss of Shadows by Laurell K. Hamilton Page A

I’ll buy you a new one if it’s ruined.”
    â€œMen will promise anything in the heat of the moment,” I said.
    â€œLet me see the oil run down that pure white skin. Make them glisten for me.” He handed the bottle to me, wrapping my hands around it. He kissed me again, mouth lingering on me, his tongue probing, opening my mouth so the kiss could be more. He drew back, slowly. “Please, Merry, please.”
    He moved back, but not far, hands at his belt again. He drew the leather tongue slowly through the gold buckle, drawing out each movement while he watched me. It made me smile because he was doing what I’d asked. He was slowly unveiling himself.
    The least I could do was do what he’d asked. The push-up bra left enough of my breasts bare so that I didn’t have to lift anything out of the dress. I drew the stopper out of the bottle. It had one of those long glass rods on the end of it, to glide along your skin. I sniffed the oil. It smelled of cinnamon and vanilla. There was something familiar about the odor, but I couldn’t place it. The oil was nearly clear. “Aren’t you supposed to warm it first?” I said.
    â€œIt reacts to your body’s heat.” He pulled the belt out of the last loop and tossed it between us on the bed. “Your turn.”
    I lifted the stopper out of the bottle. The oil clung to it in a heavy strand. I touched the end of the glass rod to the top of my breast. The oil was already warm, body temperature. I trailed the rod across the mounds of my breasts and tiny trails of oil followed it, tracing like thick tears across my skin. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla seemed to soak into my skin like a warm rush.
    Alistair undid the snap on his pants and slowly drew down the zipper. He wore red bikini underwear, like he’d dressed to match the bedroom. The scarlet was very bright against his skin, clinging over the front of his body like a second skin. He lay down on the bed to get the pants off, gazing up at me so that I towered over him on my knees as he had towered over me earlier.
    He reached up, still flat on his back, running his fingertips across the oil, spreading it over my skin. He came to his knees, hands smoothing over the tops of my breasts, fingers trying to get inside the dress and touch more, but it was too tight. Prior planning prevents embarrassing groping. He rubbed his oiled hands down his own chest, then took the bottle from me and trailed the glass stopper across my mouth like he was putting on lip gloss. It was sweet upon my lips, thick and sweet. He kissed me, both his hands still holding the bottle, so that it was just his mouth on mine. He kissed me like he was going to eat the oil off my lips. I melted into the kiss, hands stroking over his oiled chest, feeling the muscles of his stomach moving under my hands. My hand slid lower, over the front of him, finding him hard and ready. The feel of him thrilled through my body like a jolt of energy. That was when I realized that I was enjoying myself and had forgotten why I was there.
    I drew back from the kiss and tried to focus, to think. I didn’t want to think. I wanted to touch him and have him touch me. My breasts ached to be touched. My mouth almost burned with the need to close the distance between us. He leaned in for another kiss, and I crawled backward, falling onto my back in my rush to put distance between us.
    Alistair crawled to me on knees and one hand. The other hand held the bottle. He straddled me the way a horse stands over her colt. My gaze kept sliding down his body to the hard front of him. I couldn’t keep my eyes on his face. It was embarrassing, and frightening.
    â€œStupid,” I said, “so stupid. It’s in the oil. There’s a spell in the oil.”
    His voice came in an almost harsh whisper. “The oil is the spell.”
    I didn’t understand what he meant at first, but I knew I didn’t want anymore of