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Instinctively, I reached to tuck it behind her ear. I didn’t want to leave her so soon.
    Aria’s eyes ignited when I touched her face, and instantaneously I knew the feeling was mutual.
    “Can I come in?”
    “Please,” was the only word she half whispered. TTT
     

     
    Having Declan’s hand so close to my cheek ignited a potent desire within an emotional abyss that had only recently been full of sorrow. His touch only confirmed what had been a suspicion building for days—weeks. I wanted this man to kiss me. I could feel Declan’s breath on my upper lip. He was so close that I could feel the air that was created by the flutter of his eyelashes. I could barely breathe, and the breath I did take only served to fuel the fire that was burning inside. His aroma energized my desire further. I wanted to bury my head against him. He tucked my hair behind my ear and allowed his hand to drift to the back of my head where he pulled me in, close. When he asked me if I wanted him to come inside the house, I could barely breathe the word “Please” to him. But please to what? My desires were meeting my imagination. My lips were almost touching his, and I felt them draw me toward him magnetically. To say a man’s lips are “delicious” makes them sound sinful, but Declan’s lips were as wicked as chocolate, and once I had a small taste, I wanted more. At that moment, my cravings were met by Declan crushing his lips on to mine, and I knew that the pining I felt for him was equally met. I hadn’t been kissed in a very long time, and certainly never like this. Emotions of excitement and fear commingled, firing in my brain with each demanding glide of his tongue. I couldn’t think, and I couldn’t breathe. The kiss lasted just moments, but in that time I lost all sense and reasoning.
    He spread his firm fingers through the back of my head, then pulled my hair, tugging me back. “Do you think we should go inside, or would you like to continue this out here?” He smiled at me with a roguish smirk.
    I could feel the heat and color creeping up my chest and neck as I blushed and quickly opened the door.
    Once inside, I felt the need for air and a bit of composure, so I attempted to put a bit of distance between us by inviting Declan on a tour of the house. He grinned at my clever ploy, but he took my hand as I led him, room by room, telling him stories of our family vacations on the Fourth of July. He patiently listened to my recanting tale after tale, through tours of the living room with its wicker furniture, dining room with a family size table, and the kitchen where I animated remembering my dad cooking. He laughed at some of the stories, and he was interested with regard to the history of the building. As we went up the stairs, he was impressed with the sizes of the bedrooms, each with their double and single beds. The one thing that piqued his curiosity was the closet. My Uncle Bill couldn’t bear to paint it because, every year, the kids wrote on the interior walls. We never thought that my uncle was aware of the declarations of “I love Matt”, “Rich loves Shirl”, “Debbie and Gary forever!” or “P luvs H”. There were writings of “Britt and Amber—BFF”, “Di loves Keith” and “Harv was Here, Summer of 2000”. Declan thought the little closet was like a time capsule. I told him that my uncle confessed to me that he knew, all the way back then, that we were writing on the walls in there, but he just kept reading the walls at the end of every summer. He thought it was endearing, really, that so many of us kids had such great vacations there; and we did.
    As we walked back down the stairs, Declan still held my hand. I knew that if I didn’t want to end up in bed with him that night, I needed to end the date. I had to attempt to be firm, although I didn’t know if I could resist another of his kisses. I didn’t want Declan to think that I was a woman who took sex too casually. He was worldlier than