His Country Cinderella. Karen Rose Smith

to respond to Zane. She enfolded her arms around his neck, and he pulled her in tighter. His tongue slid into her mouth and her gasp of pleasure opened her up more completely to him. He explored with a possessive need that almost made her moan. She felt as if a low-burning fire inside of her burst into flames. She couldn’t get enough of his mouth on hers, his tongue retreating, then urging her on. Pressed against him, she felt his arousal and a satisfaction she had long ago forgotten.

      When he withdrew and pulled away, they were both breathing hard. She was still trying to catch her breath when he said, “That was Zane the man who kissed you, not Zane Gunther the country singer.”

      Then he let her go and walked away, his steps quick, his stride long. She heard him gallop down the stairs and then his bootfalls faded away.

      She knew one thing for certain. If Zane Gunther could sing as well as he kissed, his music would come back to him. She was sure of it.