She'd never been touched this way, as if she were something rare and
precious. What that touch stirred in her was so new and warm. Her skin
seemed to soften and sensitize under the brush of his lips, the blood
beneath to go thick and lazy. She only sighed as her dress slid down to
pool at her feet.
When he eased back again, she could only stare up at him in wonder. Her
lashes fluttered, her pulse skipped when he stroked his fingers lightly
over the swell of her breast above her simple cotton bra. She had to
bite her lip to hold back the groan when he flicked open the hook, when
he gently cupped her breast in his palms.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"Oh, God." Her head fell back, and this time the groan escaped. His
workingman's thumbs were skimming slowly, rhythmically over her nipples.
"No."
"Hold on to me, Grace." He spoke quietly, and when her hands came to his
shoulders and gripped, he brought his mouth to hers again, drawing more
this time, asking more until she went limp.
Then he lifted her into his arms. He waited until her eyes opened again.
"I'm taking you, Grace."
"Thank God, Ethan."
He had to smile when she pressed her face into the curve of his
shoulder. "I'll protect you."
For a moment as he carried her off, she thought of dragons and black
knights. Then the more practical meaning got through. "I--take the Pill.
It's all right. I haven't been with anybody since Jack."
He'd known that in his heart, but hearing it only added to his steadily
rising need.
She'd lighted candles in the bedroom as well. Slim tapers there that
lanced up out of tiny white shells. The white of her iron headboard
glowed in the soft light. White daisies sprang out of a clear glass vase
on the small table beside the bed.
She thought he would lay her down, but instead he sat, cradling her,
holding her, drugging her with those slow, endless kisses until her
pulse beat thickly, grew sluggish. Then his hands began to move.
Everywhere he touched a small fire fanned into flame.
Callused hands, slipping, sliding over her skin. Long, rough-edged
fingers stroking, pressing. There, oh, yes, just there.
The day-long stubble of beard rubbed the sensitive curve of her breasts
as his tongue circled, then flicked. And always, always, his mouth
coming back to hers for one more, just one more endless, mind-reeling
kiss.
She tugged at his shirt, hoping to give back some of the pleasure, some
of the magic. Found the scars and the muscle and the man. His torso was
lean, his shoulders broad, the flesh warm under her seeking fingers. The
breeze whispered through the open window, the call of the whippoorwill
chasing after it. And the sound no longer seemed so lonely.
He eased her back, settled her head on the pillow, then bent to pull off
his boots. Pale-gold candlelight swayed against shadows the color of
smoke. Both shades shimmered over her. He watched as her hand snuck up
to cover her breast, and he paused long enough to take it and kiss the