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He waited for her, unbuttoning his shirt. She stopped at the bottom of the bed, her eyes huge.
The edges of his shirt fell open. He reached for her and brought her close. Letting his fingers caress her nape, he speared them into the silken mass of hair and tilted her head back. Scanning her features, he saw no sign of resistance.
He had her. Alone. At last.
With a sigh of relief he unbuttoned the double row of buttons and pushed the chef’s jacket from her shoulders. His shirt, trousers, underpants and her sinful dress all followed, then he tumbled back onto the bed, taking her with him. She landed sprawled, all soft skin and tousled curls against his nakedness.
A moan of satisfaction shook him. “Kiss me, Miranda.”
She obliged, and her hair caressed him, tresses scented with the vanilla that teased his dreams. He played his hands over her shoulders, along her back, and his fingers encountered her bra strap. He undid the clasp. She lifted her torso, and as the halter-neck bra fell away she wriggled free.
Callum gasped.
Her breasts hung above him. Full, ripe curves that tempted him to touch…to taste.
He reached out reverently and caressed the berry nubs with gentle fingers. She arched sharply, and a keening sound broke from her throat. Seeking to taste her, he closed his mouth around the dark tip and sucked it. It hardened further, and he knew she was as desperate for him as he for her.
Keeping his mouth on her breast, he slid a hand down over the swell of her stomach and dipped between her legs—and found her moist and ready.
Before he could take the next step, her legs wrapped around his hips and she pushed herself upright, breaking the contact of his mouth on her.
Miranda rubbed herself along the rigid length of his erection. Callum nearly came apart. Only a brief bit of satin separated them from the final sweet connection they both sought. Impatiently he pushed the thin thong of her panties aside and, the delicate barrier gone, she sank down on him.
Pure ecstasy.
He growled in delight. Miranda moved above him and heat consumed him in a bright white flash. Clasping his hands over her hips, he fought to control the pace. But when she bent forward and outlined his mouth with her tongue, laving his lips, Callum moaned, his resolve crumbling. Then she sealed the caress with a kiss. And all the while he drove fiercely, desperately upward into her.
Callum shuddered, his body full of tension. She fell forward, boneless, breathless, on top of his chest, her hair silky against his cheeks, her fragrance embracing him.
And the heat exploded around them, tumbling them into the hot vortex of desire.
Eleven
Callum woke to a sense of supreme satisfaction.
Miranda lay curled up beside him under the covers, one hand resting on his bare chest, spreading warmth through him. It felt so right. Her hand belonged there, against his skin. Over his heart. He wanted to wake every morning to her touch, to the softness of her body tucked against his, her golden hair tousled around her face.
She was his.
The strength of emotion that surged through him awed him. Reaching out, he brushed a silky curl away from her cheek. She stirred.
Her eyes opened, and in the pale morning light that spilled through his bedroom window Callum saw something warm and wonderful in their golden-brown depths. Then alarm took over, chasing the glow out and filling her eyes with shadows.
She was about to withdraw from him. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow that to happen. Not after last night.
“Don’t move,” he demanded.
She blinked up at him. “Why?”
“Because I want to look at you.”
Miranda gave a breathy laugh and shifted away, leaving a cold space in the bed beside him.
“You’re making me feel uncomfortable.”
“Don’t feel uncomfortable.” He rolled closer and cupped his hand under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You better get used to it. I’ll never tire of looking at you.”
Something flickered in the caramel eyes that melted his heart. “Oh, yes, you will.”
He shook his head. “No, I won’t.” Not ever. But he wasn’t ready to confess that yet. Instead he let his fingertips caress the soft skin of her cheek. “What we had last night… I want more.”
Yet he couldn’t put the unfamiliar emotions and desires that churned inside him into words. All he knew was that he wanted to savor this…thing…that bound them together. Driven by an impulse, he leaned forward and pressed his lips fiercely against hers, determined to make her acknowledge the power of his need.
