Excerpt of Queen?s Gambit by Marie Treanor

"You have a free spirit." He smiled, causing her to look away.

"I wish that were true. What made you chose this place for your return match with Garrick?"

"Ah." He began to walk on again, Christi with him. "Lots of reasons. I like your Highlands. I like peace. And I liked the good old days when I could play chess in pubs and cafes. And another reason which I might tell you later."

"Very mysterious."

"Not really. I drove up here last year after the first match with Garrick, and I was intrigued. So I chose to come back."

"Shouldn't you be playing in Russia this time?"

"But I am no longer intrigued by Russia."

She shook her head at him, smiling, and watched his own returning smile die on his lips.

"You intrigue me."

There were a lot of smart answers to remarks like those. Over the long years she'd used most of them to good effect, to lighten a mood, to defend her honor, or to further entice. Yet when he said it, she could think of no reply. Eventually, when the silence screamed too loud, she muttered, "I can't think why," and walked faster.

His stride lengthened accordingly. He said, "I wonder what you are doing here, so bright and beautiful in this sleepy place where nothing ever happens. I thought it must have been your home."

"You think I would fit in better among the bright lights and shallow socialites of a big city?" she mocked. She couldn't think why she was so angry.

Zuvarin looked surprised. "No, I thought you would have a more--challenging--job."

She laughed. It wasn't entirely steady. "Believe me, working in that bar on a Saturday night is challenging enough for anybody."

"But what else do you do? What else have you done? I want to know your life story."

Again the laughter bubbled up, with a dangerous hint of hysteria. "You don't have the time. And neither do I. I have to go in now..."

She spun around as she spoke, suddenly desperate to avoid this unwanted temptation. She meant to hurry back to the hotel, with or without him, but again he took her by surprise, catching her arm and swinging her round to him. Her foot caught on the frost-hardened grass, and his grip changed to steady her, so that she stood in his arms, close enough to feel his body's heat surging through the cold. And her own answered so vividly that she felt deliciously weak.

His head bent down toward her, his lips whispered against her ear, "Why are you are running away? You are not--frightened of me?"

But she was. She was terribly frightened of him, though it was not a fear she was about to explain to him.

"Of course not," she managed, while, with eyes closed, she tried to deal with the devastating effects of his breath, his lips, at her ear. Beneath all her warm clothing, her nipples felt hard as little pebbles. The spreading heat in her stomach, between her legs, made it ridiculously difficult not to press herself into him, to control the spurt of triumph as she became aware of his own arousal just touching her body. His arms felt so strong, warm and exciting that she couldn't prevent her smile into his leather coat.

As if he felt it, he moved, setting one cold, gentle finger under her chin to lift her face to his. It was inevitable now. There was no point in trying to fight it. In fact, she welcomed it with fierce joy, her lips already parting for the first taste of his mouth. It came gradually, as if he was afraid to spoil the moment or, perhaps, giving her time to avoid it if she wished.

Reaching, she accepted his mouth. She liked the feel of his warm, dry lips, his gentle, sensitive exploration of hers. One of her hands had pushed its way up, without her knowing, and now she touched his cold, rough cheek, a blind, instinctive caress. At that, she felt his lips stretch into a smile. His mouth began to move more urgently, widening, deepening the kiss until she gasped, allowing, returning, the wild caressing of his tongue.

His hands slid down her hips, holding her against his rock hard crotch, which began to move on her so very slightly, slowly, subtly, in lazy simulation of sex, the gentle, gyrating rhythm driving her swiftly toward insanity. It had been a long, long time--oh God, had she ever wanted a man so much as this one?

Finally, he broke the amazing kiss, one hand leaving her hips to feel for her breast. She took it there for him, thrusting it under her sweater, under both sweaters, holding it to her while she reached again for his mouth, moaning into it at the touch of his stroking, caressing fingers on her skin, his palm on her tight, wanton nipple.

"Oh, Christ, I want you..."