Lowering his hand to her bare foot, he playfully ran his thumb over her arch. “How did your feet hold up in those Cinderella shoes?”
“I think they’d rather run barefoot.”
His fingers slid over her arch again, and he massaged until she sighed.
“How did you get so good at that?” she asked. “I’m the one who had massage classes.”
“I picked up a few talents in my travels.”
Sara was studying him as if she might be imagining other women, other foot massages, but there hadn’t been any. Even with Dana. Their affair had been a few weeks here, a quick stopover there. They’d both put their photojournalism careers first, not tender moments to share. But putting all that into words seemed to be too much of a gut-wrenching revelation. Because he understood, now, his relationship with Dana had never been the soul-stirring kind that could be a foundation for a lasting marriage.
When he suspected Sara was going to pull away, he tapped her hot-pink painted toenails. “Couldn’t see these with your Cinderella shoes.”
Immediately a smile spread across her lips. “Those were Amy’s idea. Hers match.”
He ran his thumb over her instep and cupped her foot in his hand. The question came out before he could stop it. “Are you afraid of what you feel when you’re with me?”
This time when she bit her lower lip, he released her foot and moved closer. “Sara?”
“Your questions are too personal.”
“That’s why I ask them.” He moved nearer still until he was sitting by her hip and she stretched her legs out along the back of the sofa. “Do you want me to leave?”
“You should leave.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She closed her eyes, opened them again and murmured, “I don’t want you to leave. But yes, I am afraid of what I feel when I’m with you.”
He leaned in slowly, giving her the chance to move away. But she didn’t. And when his lips captured hers, he didn’t taste fear but rather desire. The same desire he felt. Questions faded away when they were this close. Physical intimacy seemed to be an answer in itself.
In response to his unspoken question, Sara’s arms circled his neck, as his lips took more and demanded more, as arousal became more potent than any of the finest Raintree wines. Yes, Amy was in the next room. No, he wasn’t going to go too far. But he was going to go a little further.
Sara’s robe had gapped open and he slid his hand inside. The cotton of her gown was simply a soft, pliable barrier that didn’t meet any resistance. When he palmed her breast, he felt her answering response vibrate under his hand. Her fingers laced into his hair and she pressed into him, wanting more. He was ready to give it. With as much control as he could muster, he rimmed his finger around her nipple. Now her hand left his hair, circled his back and seemed to be trying to find a place to touch him, skin to skin. There was so much heat between them now that even mountaintop snow couldn’t cool him off. She plucked at his shirt and it came loose from the waistband of his trousers. Her hand was underneath it in seconds and he felt her palm on his skin. It felt so good, he could lay her down on the sofa and take her right there and then.
But Amy was in the next room and they both could be sorry in the morning.
The last remaining thought in his head told him what he had to do. He stopped everything...all of it. He moved his hand away from her breast and he stopped kissing her. The moment he put a few inches between them, she looked up at him.
They were both out of breath as if they’d run a race. Maybe they had, but it was a race he couldn’t complete this time...not without regrets.
His voice was gravelly when he concluded, “I think a little time and space to think about what we want might be best.”
He saw that lift of her chin, the defiant independence that came into her eyes. That was Sara. When she said with forced conviction, “You’re right,” he wasn’t surprised. After all, they were adults with good sense and histories that had made them both cautious.
Turning away from her, trying to get every one of his senses under control along with his libido, he blew out a resigned sigh. Then he stood and said the only thing he could think of to say. “You know where to find me if you need me.”
She wouldn’t meet his gaze again, and he knew she wasn’t going to let him see her need.
So time and space were what he was going to give them...whether they liked it or not.
* * *
On Tuesday of the following week, Sara glanced at her watch and then at the clock on the wall at the physical therapy center. She couldn’t believe how late it was. Ramona was sitting on one of the table mats, looking forlorn after a grueling workout.