He clamped his mouth shut and did what he’d wanted to all along. He held her. A minute went by, and another.
Avery’s hands moved from around his waist and slid up between them.
He leaned back, ready to give her space, if that was what she wanted.
Her fingers slid higher until they encircled the back of his neck and tugged his head downward.
God, this was exactly what he’d dreamed of for so long. Her in his arms, the promise of more to come. Part of him held back, not wanting to assume anything.
She lifted her face, rose on her toes and brushed her lips across his, then dropped back down. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s not fair after...everything I’ve done to you.”
“Did you want to kiss me?” he asked, his voice hoarse with the emotion squeezing tightly in his throat.
“More than I want to breathe,” she whispered.
The dam he’d built around his heart burst. He swept her up into his arms and kissed her, gently at first. When her arms wrapped around his neck, urging him closer, he deepened the kiss. Two years of longing flowed through him.
He cradled the back of her head in his hands, afraid to let go. Afraid he was dreaming, and even more afraid he would wake up in his room back in Montana. Alone. Thousands of miles away from the only woman he’d ever given a damn about.
Her hands came down between them again as her fingers twisted in his shirt and dragged it from the waistband of his jeans. One by one, she worked the buttons until all were loose, and she shoved the shirt over his shoulders.
As it fell to the floor, he tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it aside, cupping her lace-covered breasts in his palms.
Avery reached behind her, unhooked her bra and let the straps slide down her arms.
As Grant let go of her breasts, the bra slid free, exposing the bruising the seatbelt had caused.
“Oh, baby,” he said. “You’re bruised.”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
He bent to press his lips lightly against the discolored skin. Then he raised his head and stared down into her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’ll hurt me more if you don’t make love to me,” she said. “Please.” She unbuttoned her jeans, kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of the rest of her clothes.
Grant made quick work of his, then swept her up in his arms and strode into the bathroom.
He set her on her feet and reached into the shower to turn on the water. While he waited for the water to warm, he kissed her again, his hands skimming over the silky skin of her shoulders and down her back to cup the rounded swell of her ass. When he lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist.
Grant kissed her again and stepped beneath the warm spray.
Water washed over them.
He lowered her feet to the floor, squirted body wash into his hands and rubbed her hands with his, forming a bubbly lather.
They explored each other’s bodies as if for the first time and yet as if remembering the wonder of their touch.
Grant turned her around to rinse the suds from her back while he bent to take one wet nipple between his lips.
Her back arched, pressing her breast deeper into his mouth. Water ran over her shoulders and down her chest.
She cupped the back of his head, holding him there as he teased the tip of her nipple into a tight bead and then moved to claim the other.
Avery moaned, her leg circling around his, her sex riding his thigh.
By the time the water cooled, Grant’s cock was hard, thick and so ready. Still, he held back, wanting to show her how much he cared for her pleasure before his.
He turned off the water and grabbed a towel, patting every inch of her body dry and wrapping her hair in the towel.
