I love these snogs, but since I took yesterday off from social media, I didn't get this up right away. No worries. It's going up now. I thought I'd use my Phantom of the Opera for the snog. I love Raoul and Christine, and I hope you do, too.
The Classics Exposed…But now for that snog!!
A chance sighting at the Opera, fated love, and three lives in turmoil.
One man pledges to own her, while another wants her heart. The Opera sets the stage for romance and intrigue. In the catacombs below the building lives a man rife with sorrow and passion. The Phantom. But he’s not content to live alone. He wants to possess the one woman who can set him free.
Viscount Raoul de Chagny doesn’t believe the rumours of a Ghost living below the Opera. He only has eyes for Christine, his childhood friend and first love. Together they embark on a sensual journey of discovery and fiery desire.
But she can only have one man. Will love raise her up or tear their world apart?
“You must forget about me.”
“I cannot.” He threaded his fingers into her hair, drawing her close. “I have the most indecent thoughts when I’m near you.” He spoke against her lips. “I can’t help but want to ruin you, only to keep you in my arms a bit longer.”
The most beautiful shade of red spread across her cheeks and slipped down the column of her neck. She glanced at the door, then shot from her spot on the bed. Christine twisted the lock and pressed herself against the door.
“What kind of indecent thoughts?” she whispered.
“To lash you to my bed with your body bared to me. I want to take you over and over, hearing you cry out my name. To watch you give me pleasure with your submission to me.”
“I’m not educated in the way to love a man.” Her chest heaved with each breath. “Will you teach me? I want to be yours, if for only a short time. I want you to show me how much you love me. Teach me?”
“Yes, my love.” He held out his hand to her. Christine twisted her fingers with his and eased onto his lap. Her eyes widened.
“What are you asking of me?”
“Your submission. Allow me to direct you as if I were the composer of one of your songs. Do you trust me?” Raoul smoothed a lock of her hair between his fingers. She smelt of flowers, a most intoxicating scent. Although she trembled in his arms, she met him for a kiss. Christine whimpered. Damn the blanket and the layers of fabric between them. He longed to feel her body next to his. He parted her robe and shoved the garment from her shoulders, leaving her in her nightgown. He swiped his tongue along her bottom lip and palmed her breast.
“Raoul,” she gasped, but didn’t swat him away. “I trust you.”
“Let me make you feel the magic.”