Kiss Across Time (Kiss Across Time Series) Read Online Free

wires and now he began to soar into the air above the heads of the audience, out beyond the stage. The crowd went wild, screaming and waving. Everyone around Taylor began to shove and press closer to the balcony and she realized that they were trying to get the singer’s attention.
    The singer was coming closer. The hysteria around her seemed to rise in exponential proportion. Now she could get a much better look at the guy. He was older than she had first thought. Perhaps it was her complete ignorance of heavy metal in general and death metal in particular but she had assumed that only teenagers and people in their very early twenties would want to listen to the stuff or play it. This guy looked like he was his early thirties. That put him just a few years older than her.
    He was gorgeous. No wonder the audience was packed with women verging on hysteria. Dark hair, darker eyes, white skin. She classified the combination almost automatically as classic Celtic looks. He was broad shouldered, defying what she was sure was supposed to be a wasted, frail look for head-bangers. Black jeans, black designer tee shirt, with designer rips and tears and chains looped across the open spaces. Touches of red among the black. A black iron belt buckle down low over an impressive bulge.
    Then she blinked. He was looking directly at her and floating on the wires straight toward her.
    Andy was tugging on her arm. “Taylor, he’s spotted you!”
    She barely heard him.
    The man’s hand came up and pointed at her, obviously giving the people controlling the wires directions. At once, he drifted toward her and the hysteria around her intensified. Everyone was screaming, not just the women. Even Andy was banging on the balcony rail.
    The man’s hand curled around the back of Taylor’s head. She understood that this was probably a standard ritual at these concerts and tried not to freeze or look bewildered, even though she didn’t know for sure what was going to happen next. But her runaway heart had a pretty good idea and her suddenly throbbing clit actually thought it was a good idea, and that horrified her.
    He kissed her and Taylor closed her eyes. She could still hear the screaming but it changed in quality and became fear-filled. That made her open her eyes again. Fear was not good.
    She was not at the concert any more. She looked around the rustic room, blinking. What the hell?
    The singer had her in his arms still. There was no balcony between them now.
    His hands slid into her hair, keeping her head still. “Not yet,” he begged, sliding his lips down her throat, nuzzling her jaw. “There’s time yet, Toiréasa,” he murmured. “Time to say fare thee well properly.”
    “We should have returned to Ireland, Breandán,” she whispered, as he loosened the ties on her gown and dropped it from her shoulders. The words came to her naturally, even as a tiny voice was raging in her mind, “W hat on earth are you saying, Taylor?” But that voice was being drowned out by the pure sensuousness he was stirring in her.
    “Arthur would have been short a good officer if we had,” he said against her breast, just before his teeth caught the nipple. His hands stripped her gown from her and in the soft morning light pouring through the cloth over the door, he lowered her to the bed in the little cot that had been theirs for the last few years. He unbuckled his sword belt and put it to one side, watching her as she lay waiting for him. He stripped his tunic, trews and boots. He was stiff and ready for her, his manhood throbbing.
    He lay next to her and pulled her to him, his thigh thrusting between hers. She was moist and ready for him, aching to feel him slide into her. “Take me, Breandán,” she coaxed, tugging at his hip.
    His full lips curled in a smile. “Yer a wanton, Toiréasa, lass and I’ve always lo—”
    She quickly covered his lips. “No. Don’t speak of it.” She shook her head. “Tell me later, you understand?”
    His