"The one who wore fruit on her head?" She wrinkled her nose. "Not sure that's a compliment."
"A beautiful woman bearing snacks. How is that not a compliment?"
Smiling, she bit her lip. "See, don't do that. When you're funny, I want to kiss you again. But there are too many good reasons why I shouldn't."
Deliberately, he put his hand behind her neck and bent his mouth to hers. She gave a little sigh as she opened her lips for him.
Kissing her was like opening a door to a place he'd somehow lost. It had been so long since he'd touched anyone like this. Since he'd let himself go, so that only here and now existed. In this moment, all that mattered was the sound of her breath, the play of light on the hollow at the base of her throat, and the feel of her fingernails running down his shoulder.
When she let her blanket fall away again, he kissed below her breasts, down their silken curves to the part of her torso that still tasted of rainwater. Moving his hand to her thigh, he could feel her warmth. Oh yes, she was wet there. Ready for him.
As her thighs parted, she stroked him through his boxer briefs. Her touch made his balls tighten. Shit, he was about to burst. He pulled in a sharp breath and drew back. "I'll get a condom."
When he came back, she was putting a log on the fire. The blanket was around her, but it slipped when she placed the log and she had to haul it back up.
He crouched next to her and took the log from her hand. "Let me."
She was frowning, her eyes filled with worry. "I'm still having second thoughts. When you touch me, my brain stops working. But this is a bad idea. If I do this, I'm letting my readers down."
Putting the wood on the fire, he was careful to avoid kicking up sparks. When he turned to her, light and shadow were dancing over her lovely features. She'd taken the towel off her head and with her still-damp hair slicked back, she looked younger and more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her. He cupped her cheek with one palm. What he wanted to do was use his mouth and hands to drive away her doubts. Instead he took a breath, forcing as gentle a tone as he could manage.
"I think it's foolish to let a bunch of strangers tell you how to live. But I also know what it's like to regret having slept with a woman. So I'm not going to try to talk you into this. But Lacey, I'm on the edge. Tell me what you want."
"I want to not want this."
"That's not an answer."
She was silent for a moment, staring into his eyes. "This isn't me. I don't do this kind of thing, not with someone who's so obviously wrong for me. This has no chance to turn into anything. So why let it get that far?"
"Haven't you ever done something just because it feels good?" He ran his thumb over the curve of her cheek. God, she was beautiful. "You're right, this will never turn into anything. We have very different lives, and after this week we'll get back to normality and may not see each other again. But tonight we're here together, with the rain falling and the fire crackling. And I want to make love to you, Lacey, right now, and just for tonight. Tomorrow we can go back to hating each other. But in this moment, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and I've never wanted anything as much as I want you."
She swallowed. Then her teeth caught her lower lip, and the hunger in her eyes made his cock swell. "Just tonight," she whispered.
He kissed her again, slowly, savoring the softness of her lips and the way her tongue responded to his. As much as he ached for her, first he needed to be sure she'd put her second thoughts aside. "One more log," he told her, adding a large one to the flames so it wouldn't need tending again for a while.
"So tempted to make a bad joke about stoking the flames of passion right now."
Smiling, he turned back in time to see her blanket drop away. Blood rushed to his groin. Beautiful. And now there was nothing in their way. He couldn't wait another second. His need for her was so strong, he could barely think of anything else.
This time, his kiss was hard and urgent, and she responded eagerly, fumbling with his boxer briefs. He helped her push them down and off, then eased her back onto the comforter. Holding himself over her, she felt delicate beneath him, like his weight might damage her if he pressed too hard against her. But her hands slid around his waist, pulling him down.
Pain flared in his ribs at her touch, but he ignored it. Besides, her hands were already moving to his back, pressing on his unhurt shoulder blades instead. She was trying to move him harder against her, and he obliged by letting more of his weight fall on her. Her legs were entwined around his hips and he pressed himself against the heat of her sex. He was still unsheathed and her wet softness felt so good against his bare, hard flesh that he groaned into her mouth.
She used her hips to grind against him, massaging them both so he had to fight the longing to forget the condom and slide inside her. But he couldn't stand it for long. To have heaven so close and have to deny himself entrance was exquisite torture.
Moving down her body, he kissed her neck and throat, then her breasts, wanting to explore and taste every inch of her. Her breathing deepened, and she twined her fingers in his hair. He kissed the curve of her belly then licked down her pubic bone until he reached the juncture of her thighs. Tasting her, his cock was throbbing, his balls tight enough to burst. She cried out when he flicked his tongue against her. Every moan, every writhing movement, every gasp, made him ache to be inside her. But he stayed where he was until he felt her contract and clench around his thrusting fingers. Until his mouth flooded with her juices and she cried out again and again, her fingernails digging into his scalp.
Finally, she was shuddering, her body quiet and spent. Her fingers eased open, releasing his head so he could pull away for long enough to roll the condom on. Then he lifted her hips, adjusting her to the perfect angle, and buried himself so deeply inside her that she let out another long, loud cry. Her head came up and her mouth found his.
Everything else in the world disappeared. There was only the two of them, and the ecstasy of sensation sweeping them away. He breathed her name as he was kissing her, once and then again, because it was all he could manage to say. Her hands clung hard to his shoulder blades, and he ran his hand under her back, lifting her to him while he thrust into her.
It took everything he had, every bit of strength he could summon, to hold back and wait for her to orgasm again beneath him. He'd been hard for so long, he needed a release, and she looked so incredible beneath him, so sexy with her damp hair in tendrils, and her eyes dark and unfocussed, that he was afraid he might come too soon.
With her body locked to his, he couldn't put his fingers to good use. Instead he slid his hand down to her buttocks, reaching as far as he could inside her curve, finding her sensitive places. Gently he fingered her from behind, gauging her reaction, the way she gasped and dug her fingernails into his back. When she moaned and gasped, "Yes," he stroked her harder.
She cried out into his mouth then, and he barely held on to his control, loving the way she jumped and quivered with the strength of her orgasm. It went on for a long time and it was only when she stopped bucking and moaning beneath him that he let himself give in to his own pleasure. He thrust into her hard and fast.
After being on edge for hours, his orgasm had all the power and ferocity of a large-scale nuclear strike. Afterward, he felt dazed, his mind emptied of thought. He lay on his back, and she moved onto his chest. When his ribs protested, she moved down so her head was on his stomach.
His thoughts were dreamy at first, pleasantly sluggish, as though he was only half awake. But he felt good all over, deep into his bones. Perfectly content without a care in the world, and right where he was meant to be, as though this was exactly where the universe wanted him.
What the hell am I thinking? He suppressed a chuckle. That had been some seriously good sex for him to be having such crazy thoughts.
He turned his head to check the fire didn't need stoking. Its flames danced hypnotically and he gazed into it, enjoying the deep sense of contentment he felt. Lacey's hair tickled his chest, and he stroked his hand over her shoulder. The heat of the fire felt good against his body, and the sound of dripping water competed with the drumming of the rain against the windows. Was it any wonder he was having crazy thoughts about the universe aligning, when the night was so perfect?
"What are you thinking?" she murmured.
"That we should do that again in half an hour."
She stroked her fingers lightly over his stomach. "That long?"
"Fifteen minutes," he amended. Then, as her fingers moved lower. "Okay, I'm ready."