That’s how she felt. Wrapped in Will’s arms, absorbed in his kiss, the scent of him, taste of him, look of him.In some part of her brain, Kelly recognized they were still on the boat, that the music had stopped playing, that the engines had quit, that the other passengers were noisily gathering their belongings and descending the gangplank.And still, she seemed to be dancing with Will. To unheard music.To scents she’d never experienced before. To textures she’d never imagined—like his tongue.His wicked, wicked tongue.Her fingers fisted around his neck, not clenching so much as holding on. Her balance felt increasingly threatened, as if she was precariously a blink away from falling, awash in silver dizziness.The image of silver dizziness almost made her laugh. How ridiculous was that? She’d never been fanciful. She’d always been practical, the kind of woman who ran her life on facts, numbers, reality. For darn sure, she didn’t go around looking to do wrong things. She suffered enough guilt day by day trying to do the right things.Only just then her conscience couldn’t seem to scare up any sense of doing wrong.And the silvery dizziness made perfect sense to her.And so did kissing Will.
