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Whisper
Amber Heat, the erotic imprint of Amber Quill Press
Read What the Reviewers Are Saying...
Excerpt from Whisper : Eden stood in the middle of the patio listening to the sounds and smells of evening around her. She could hear the chirruping of crickets, the far off call of seagulls, the echo of ocean waves beating at the rocky shore. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine what the sky looked like, a full moon maybe, with the constellations twinkling above. She could smell lavender, lilacs, and roses, permeated with mint and sage. It felt as though her other senses were heightened by her lack of sight. All of it washed over and through her offering her a sense of peace. "Eden." Instinctively, she opened her eyes, searching, but was met with nothing but darkness. Her breathing halted, and she attuned herself more closely, listening to the sounds close by, expecting to feel a shift in the air indicating someone close by. She turned to face the house, sightlessly searching. "Connie?" she called out tentatively. She rubbed at her arms as a gentle, moist breeze washed over her. No one answered. There was nothing but the sea-filled breeze to answer her, and suddenly the night air seemed colder. She couldn't feel another presence nearby. Counting her steps, she made her way toward the house. Obviously she was overtired. It had been a long and exhausting weekend. A soothing, hot soak in the tub and an early night was definitely in order. Connie had set timers on several of the lights so any outsider looking would know someone was at home and the house wasn't vacant. They were set to go on at seven in the morning and off at ten in the evening. It was a safety precaution as well as an indication to visitors, and Eden wouldn't have to remember to turn the lights on. Being in perpetual darkness, it most likely wouldn't be something she'd remember to do regularly as she didn't need the light. As she reached for the door handle, she felt a warm wind skittle across the back of her neck, so different from the chill air of the ocean breeze. She inhaled sharply at the unexpected sensual warmth that lingered there. Reaching up to touch her neck, she was shocked when she felt a soft touch similar to a fluttering kiss against her fingers. Yanking her hand down, she whirled around, her back flat against the door. She reached out and encountered nothing but empty air as she swept an arc around her. "Who's there?" she called. "I know someone's there. Speak up." Again she waited, her breath locked in her chest. No one answered except the sigh of the ocean breeze. Yet she still felt the heat at her neck, and her fingers tingled from the kiss. Lifting her hand, she sniffed, and the scents of pine and rosemary teased her senses. It was woodsy, inviting...and masculine. And she also knew there were no rosemary bushes growing in the flowerbeds near the house.
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Stories on this Site are the original works of Adrianna Dane Copyright 2005-2007 Adrianna Dane |
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Content on this website copyright 2005-2007. All rights reserved. |