God, yes, she did taste like dessert. He’d been gone for four days and all he’d thought about was coming home to her. And kissing her. And making love to her. And waking up in the mornings and making love to her again.
She rubbed against his erection, and he reluctantly broke the kiss. There were still things on his list he had to do before he could claim her once and for all. The evening had been planned out in his mind from the moment he’d visualized it, and as he drove to the beach, he listened to her sing along to the love songs playing on the radio. She had a surprisingly good voice, one that reminded him a little of Stevie Nicks, all throaty and sexy as hell.
That was something he hadn’t known about her, or that she would know the words to every song that came on. How much more about her was there to discover? She was a gift, one he wanted to tear the wrapping from in a frenzy and, at the same time, slowly peel the layers back, building the anticipation of discovering the surprise inside.
Her fingers danced over his thigh to the beat of the music as she sang along with Foreigner. Although he hadn’t realized it, he had been waiting for a girl like her all his life. Even though he’d fought it, some part of him had always known she was the one.
His skin rippled under the press of her palm on his leg. The urge to grab her hand and press it over his cock, aching for her touch, almost had him doing it. But that would be kind of crude, and he wanted tonight to be romantic and special. As if reading his mind, her fingers brushed over his erection and he jerked against the confines of his briefs.
“You’re killing me, Maria.” The smile she gave him was seductive and knowing. The little witch knew exactly the effect she had on him.
“I hope so.”
At the beach, he pulled into a public parking space. “Take off your shoes.” He removed his coat, tie, and socks, then rolled up his pant legs. Opening her door for her, he offered his hand to help her out.
“I used to run around barefoot as a kid and not even notice little stones,” she said as she gingerly walked over the pavement.
“We all did, I think.” He sighed in pleasure when his feet stepped onto still-warm, sugary sand. The moon was two or three days from full and cast a ribbon of yellow light across the Gulf. The waves were gentle, a rhythmic splash over the shore, and the breeze was soft against his face.
A perfect night for telling a woman he loved her.
Slipping his hand around hers, he listened to the sound of the surf as they strolled along the hard-packed, wet sand. She seemed content with the silence between them, but he wasn’t fooled. The question she’d asked almost a dozen times already was on the tip of her tongue, and he could sense the tension in her body.
Both he and Kincaid had made his trip such a secret that she couldn’t help but wonder what they were hiding from her. Each time she’d asked, he had said he would tell her when the time was right, and he was pretty sure she suspected he’d brought her to the beach to tell her something she wouldn’t like. Whether or not she would like it remained to be seen, but he thought—hoped—she would.
“You’re stalling,” she said. “Are you going on another dangerous mission? Is that what all the secrecy’s about? I finally decided you went to Washington to get briefed on something so top secret that they’d cut both your tongues out if either of you talked about it. Either that, or you’ve been in Tallahassee dealing with something to do with Fortunada, and you didn’t want to upset me by telling me.”
Jake grinned. Did he know his woman or what? Stopping, he turned to face her, cradling her face with his palms. “Wrong to both, Chiquita.” He kissed her then, and when she went all soft against him and circled his neck with her arms, he groaned and deepened the kiss.
This was different from the other times they’d kissed. Whether it was because he wanted her to feel his love for her, he didn’t know—just knew this was the woman he would always want in his arms. The only one.
Lifting his head, he stared down at her a moment. The time had come, and he wished his heart would stop trying to pound its way out of his chest. His lungs felt like bellows, and he was afraid the words would get tangled up with the air he was trying to breathe and nothing would come out of his mouth.
Do it and do it right, Buchanan. He dropped to his knees and pressed one of her hands between his. Tilting his head, he looked up at her.
“I love you, Maria Kincaid. Will you marry me?”
Amazing. He hadn’t even stuttered over the words. He had a moment of panic when she didn’t immediately answer. Then she fell to her knees in front of him, tears streaming down her face, and plastered herself against him.