For Throw Back Thursday, a scene from Shadowdance. In which Mary and Jack share a dance... They grew silent, giving deference to the music and the light sounds of their not-so-steady breathing. It was far too easy to let her thoughts slip to the fact that he was holding her, not in anger or strife, but carefully and with skill. Too easy to soak in the warmth of his mouth near her temple and the crisp scent of his skin. A heavy stillness fell between them, as if he too became overly aware. His movements grew more deliberate, a gentle glide, an arcing turn that seemed to hang in time, forcing her to feel the strength in his large body and what it was capable of doing. You dance well, she murmured, desperate for something to say, if only to break the spell he wove. Talent let the words drift off before answering, his voice sun-warmed slate now. There are many things I do well. He could not possibly be flirting. Mary turned her head toward him. A mistake, for his blunt chin brushed against her temple, and a sizzle of sensation licked along her skin. His warm breath touched her ear, a teasing lilt in his voice. A four-in-hand knot, the one-punch knockout, ham and mustard sandwiches... Mary found herself smiling, and the crest of her cheek grazed his lower lip. A hitch caught in her chest. I do not believe that last one can be counted. How difficult can it be for one to excel at sandwich making? A soft rumble vibrated along his frame and into hers. Talent chuckling. She could barely fathom it, and then his lips were a hairsbreadth away from the sensitive spot just before her earlobe. Shows what you know, Chase. A multitude of catastrophes can occur when constructing a sandwich. Too much mustard, he spun her around, making her dizzy, uneven bread. Not enough ham. No, Chase, you cannot approach the task willy-nilly. Despite the confusing heat that thrummed through her limbs, a light laugh left her. Willy-nilly, shilly-shally, your vocabulary veers toward shocking frivolity, Master Talent. He paused a beat, and then she could feel him smile. Mmm, he murmured warmly, and yet why do I suspect that pleases you, Mistress Chase? His hand upon her back eased up an inch, a smooth, subtle move, and her lids fluttered closed, her fingertips sliding just beneath his silk lapel. And all the delicious muscles along his shoulders tensed. Does it?” she whispered. Her voice betrayed her, for God help her, she did like this version of Jack Talent. And as if hed realized this startling fact as well, he drew back, just enough to look down at her. Does it?” Heartbeat thundering in her breast, she slowly raised her gaze to his face. Hed said it lightly, a quip, and yet a certain wistfulness tainted his words. The moment drew close. Long enough for her to count the light scattering of freckles at the edges of his bottle green eyes. Four on the left. Six on the right. A honey dust that was only noticeable up close. As if unable to bear her study, his lids lowered, and his gaze settled on her mouth. A mistake too, for now she felt the throb inside her lips, as though they needed to be touched. Chase... The rough, almost awkward intensity of his voice had her breath stopping altogether, but then his gaze flickered up as if some movement beyond caught his eye, and his expression hardened, even as he slowed and took a step back. Then he let go.--
Posted on: Thu, 07 Aug 2014 20:55:51 +0000
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