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His own need had become a tangible beast. Jim could feel its hot breath on the back of his neck. How the hell was he supposed to resist her? Even in a potato sack, Heather would be tempting enough to lead a saint astray, but now, naked and vulnerable, she was irresistible. Especially to him.

He told himself it was a mistake. He told himself this was a place he couldn’t afford to go. Once he made love to her again, there was no going back. He would lose himself in her and then he would be lost forever. But he couldn’t resist her. Perhaps she’d been sent to him as a test. If so, he was going to fail, but in the most glorious way possible.

He crossed to her in three long strides, then drew her into his arms and kissed her. There were so many sensations, each better than the last. He savored the taste of her sweet mouth and the way she opened to welcome him. Her tongue brushed against his, sending pleasure jolting through him. Her body was soft, warm and yielding. He traced familiar curves along her back, her sides and her rear. He cupped her and she surged against him, pressing her belly against his arousal.

He wanted her more than he had before. This time he knew what kind of paradise awaited him between her legs. He knew how tight and wet she could be, how she could start to climax well before he was ready and that each ripple of her release would bring him closer until he plunged into her, spilling himself, feeling her muscles contract again and again around him. He knew how they would hold on to each other in the aftermath as their breathing returned to normal. He knew how an unnamed emotion would tease at the corners of his mind, tempting him with the one thing he could never have. He knew how he would have to leave her and that the leaving would nearly bring him to his knees.

Even knowing what it would cost him later, even knowing that the sensible thing would be to walk away, he couldn’t. Perhaps if she hadn’t been naked. No, that wouldn’t have been enough. Perhaps if they hadn’t been alone together in the house. Was that the real reason he’d been avoiding her? That having once made love with her, he couldn’t be with her again without needing that intimacy as much as he needed to breathe?

The answer didn’t matter, he decided, giving himself over to the sensation of her slenderness in his arms. She was here and she wanted him. If he died later, so be it.

Her eager fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt. He let her unfasten them as he kissed her jaw, then moved to lick the inside of her perfect ear. She giggled against his chest as she wrestled with the buttons.

“I can’t concentrate when you do that,” she said.

“Is that so bad?”

“Yes.”

He paused long enough to shed his shirt, jeans, boots, socks and underwear. Then he was as naked as she was.

He put his hands on her waist and urged her to lie down. But when she lay on her back, he told her to turn over.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked as she settled her head on her folded arms and looked at him through the curtain of her blond hair.

“Nothing you won’t like,” he promised.

Her more subtle curves were still new to him, and while he’d always found joy in the softness of breasts, hips and buttocks, there was an ethereal beauty in Heather’s slightness. Other men might not take the time to notice the perfect porcelain quality of her skin or the fact that her small breasts were exquisitely sensitive. She was his prize…his princess…and he was grateful for her generosity in allowing him to be with her.

He straddled her thighs, then bent over and pushed her hair away from the back of her neck. Then he kissed the tender curve and felt her catch her breath.

“That tickles,” she whispered. “But in a good way. Don’t stop.”

If he had his way, he would never stop, he thought as he kissed and nibbled and licked down her spine. He ran his hands along her sides, the long, smooth strokes a counterpoint to the shivery touch of his mouth and tongue. When he reached her waist, he shifted so that he could lick the backs of her knees. She started suddenly and gave a tiny scream. He pinned her with his greater weight and strength so she could only wriggle but not escape.

“Jim, please.”

“Stop?”

“No. Never. I want…” He gently bit her rear and her breath caught. Her sentence died in an exhale of delight. “What are you doing to me?”

Making you mine. But he didn’t say that. He just turned her over and went to work on her ankles.

From toes to thighs, he touched and licked and kissed until she was tossing her head and begging him to stop, not to stop, to please just touch her there. But he didn’t. He avoided the heat and sweetness of her, even though the very thought of it made him throb. If she even brushed against him, he would have exploded against her, spilling himself like a seventeen-year-old boy. Tasting and smelling her, learning what made her moan and cry out and sigh was the most perfect experience of his life. He wanted to know all of her. He wanted to know her better than anyone ever had before. He wanted to learn the details, the tiny, nearly insignificant things that would make her come apart in his arms.

When he’d discovered all he could about her legs, he shifted so he could kiss her mouth. As his lips pressed against hers, she wrapped her arms around him and hauled him close. She was insistent. She attacked, plunging inside him, nipping him, pulling him closer and slipping one leg between his so she could rub herself against his thigh.

She was wet and hot and all things wonderful. He wanted to bury himself inside her right then, but it was too soon. He wanted more for her.

So he broke the kiss and licked his way down to her belly, then lower to the dark blond curls, damp and glistening with desire. Her legs fell open in anticipation.

“I in no way take responsibility for anything I’m about to say,” she said, her voice low and breathless. “I know it’s going to be incredible. Just please catch me when I fall.”

“Always,” he promised, and pressed his tongue against her most sensitive point.

Her upper body came up off the bed and she gave a strangled moan. He loved that tiny place, circling it, licking around it in a slowly steady rhythm. She tasted salty and sweet, so uniquely herself. He could feel the muscles in her legs clenching and unclenching. It was as if he was connected to her and could feel what she felt. He knew how fast, how often, and even before she thought how much she would like it, he slipped a single finger inside her and pressed up.

He stroked her from the inside with a rhythm matching what he did with his tongue. The response was instant. Her entire body clenched, then released in a series of spasms as she climaxed. Her feminine core clamped down on his fingers, contracting over and over, drawing him in, massaging him. He continued to lick that tiny bud, moving faster and lighter until she sagged back against the bed in consummate surrender.