He felt a rush of sexual desire so intense it was painful. But it was coupled with a tenderness he’d never experienced before.
His mouth touched hers briefly, experimentally. She didn’t pull away, but her fingers stretched up into his hair and laced through it. He settled his lips more firmly over hers as he slipped his hands inside the robe on either side of her waist. As the kiss deepened and his tongue sank into the wonder of her mouth, he drew her against him.
His hands splayed wide over her back. The cotton knit T-shirt was soft beneath his hands. Her body heat came through it. He knew her skin would be silky to his touch, but he dared not lift the shirt and slide his hands under. God he wanted to.
Her breasts flattened against his chest and he moaned his pleasure. He could feel the hardness of her nipples even through their clothes. He wondered how the rough denim of his jeans felt against her bare thighs as he worked his knee between hers. He wished he could see their legs linked together. Just the thought of the way her hips were raised up against his sent his mind reeling.
He also wondered what she thought of that ridge behind the fly of his jeans. She had to feel it. It was nuzzling the beguiling triangle of her bikini panties. He couldn’t get that image out of his mind either—the way she had stretched in the sunlight, back arched, arms raised, legs braced apart, head thrown back. Sensual abandonment personified.
He wanted to touch her, all of her. He wanted to smooth his hands over her skin while his tongue was lazily exploring her mouth. How would she react if he slipped his hands beneath—
No. If he touched any part of her bare skin, even her back, he’d want to caress it all. His hands wouldn’t stop at the small of her back but would probably slide into her panties and squeeze that cute bottom. And if things should progress from there—Damn! Don’t even think about her front—she would hate herself afterward.
She would condemn herself for consenting too soon. He would be called an opportunist for catching her lonely after nearly three months of solitude. He had arrived early in the morning when she was at her most vulnerable, only partially dressed. She would blame him for taking advantage of her again.
He could all but hear the accusations she would fling at him. And the hell of it was, she would be right. He was moving too fast. Maybe her response to him was only a result of her being without a man, any man, too long.
That thought was a slap to his pride, but it carried enough weight to make his hands move from the inside of the robe and settle affectionately, but passionlessly, on her shoulders. He forced his mouth away from the miracle of hers.
Her eyelashes lifted heavily and she looked at him through hazy green eyes. Hunter cursed himself for a damned fool for stopping so soon. Maybe she was ready. Maybe … No, not yet. He smiled and asked, “What’s on the agenda for today?”
He was a bundle of contradictions. After the kiss they had just shared, while her senses were humming and her limbs were liquefying and her body was melting all over his, she would have expected a man of Hunter’s virility to ask, “Where’s the bedroom?” or “Do you mind if we forgo the bedroom?” and drag her to the floor.
His softly spoken inquiry was so different from what she had thought he would say that she blinked rapidly. When her vision cleared and she could feel the floor beneath her feet again, his words finally registered on her. “Agenda?” Her voice was reedy and weak. She tried again. “What did I plan to do today?”
He brushed back stray wisps of hair from her cheeks. “Yes. Whatever you were going to do, care for a companion?”
“I, uh, I need to buy groceries.” She smiled wanly. “That doesn’t sound very exciting, does it?”
His eyes took on a gleam that startled her. The wolfish grin sent a thrill of sensation feathering up her middle and back down again. “We can make anything exciting, Kari. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
He waited in the living room while she showered and dressed. When she came from the bedroom wearing jeans and a pullover, he whistled low and long.
Putting her hands on her hips, she asked flirtatiously, “Which turned you on? The jeans or the ponytail?”
“Both. Remember, lately I’ve never seen you any way but camera-ready.”
“How soon you forget. You saw me fresh out of bed only an hour ago.”
His eyes took on a smoky hue. “I’ll never forget that.”
She ducked into the kitchen to make a grocery list, but her fingers could barely control the pencil. During her shower, she had tried to tether her high-flying spirits, but they wouldn’t be anchored down. She felt as lighthearted as a child in the springtime. No, amend that. She felt as if she were learning for the first time all it meant to be a woman. And what fun it was!