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“It is not!”
“Right. You think that headboard is more beautiful than a work of art? Hell, I bet it doesn’t even measure up to your romantic view of Providence.”
“Dude, if I found something like this in Providence, it would be on the front of the brochure. That’s how much I like it.”
“‘Dude,’ huh?”
“Well, you told me not to call you cowboy.”
He smiled and her stomach fluttered. It felt…secret, somehow, this smile. And when he spoke, his voice was softer. “I’d rather you just called me Shane,” he said.
She could’ve sworn his gaze dipped down to her mouth, but she was so nervous, she focused on the headboard instead of him. “Well, it’s amazing. What you did. It’s…”
“Rough.” When had he gotten so close? His biceps brushed her shoulder as he turned toward her. “This light is a little more generous. If you see it in the morning light, all the flaws stand out, at least to me.”
“You want me to sneak in and surprise you at dawn?”
“No, that’s not what I was thinking.”
She’d been in denial, staring at the bed and ignoring that he was looking at her as he spoke. But there was no way to ignore him when his hand touched her shoulder. She looked up, her heart pounding so hard that she couldn’t hear, couldn’t think. Even as he bent his head toward her, she knew it wasn’t really happening, he wasn’t really about to kiss her. But her eyelids fluttered closed and then his lips brushed hers, and Merry wanted to weep.
His mouth was gentle, as if it were asking her a question, but she had no idea how to answer. He was so gorgeous. So damn sexy he’d inspired fantasies she hadn’t bothered with in more than six months. But…did he like her? Did he really want her that way, or was it just that she was in his bedroom and she had breasts and all the other important female parts that made a bedroom more fun?
She didn’t want it to matter. She wanted to just open for him, part her lips and take him inside, but it’d been too long for her. After two long years, she suddenly realized she didn’t want to be another notch in someone’s bedpost, even if it was handcrafted, because this would mean something to her. She couldn’t bear it being one meaningless night in a guy’s memory.
But when his mouth whispered over hers with the slightest bit more pressure, she gave in with a sigh that seemed to part his lips. His tongue touched hers, his arms pulled her closer.
She was in his grip, in his arms, in his room, and Shane Harcourt was exploring her mouth with a slow determination that weakened her knees. She had to stop him, but not…quite…yet. Not yet. She just wanted a little more of this. A little more of his tongue, sliding over hers. A little more of his hands as they slipped down her back and settled on her hips.
Oh, God. Her hips. His hands rested there, shaping to the curve of her body, then gripping her. As if he liked that. As if he needed to touch her.
Merry sighed into his mouth and his hands tugged her closer. Their hips were almost flush. If she eased forward, she would feel him. Right there. Against her. She wanted to feel him. She wanted it desperately. And if she did that, she knew that would be a signal. He’d ease her shirt up. Touch her naked skin. He’d undress her and they’d fall into bed and then…
Merry pulled back. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” he said, eyes a little unfocused as he started to bend toward her again.
She couldn’t pull away, couldn’t force her body away from his, but she did manage to turn her head. His mouth settled on her neck, and that was just as good. Better, even, as nerves screamed to life and stretched beneath her skin, lusting for his touch. His tongue touched her skin. And then his teeth.
“Oh, God,” she groaned out loud.
“Merry,” he said against her neck.
The power of that, the ability to make him growl her name like a spoken wish… And then he tugged her hips closer and she knew he wanted her. He wanted this. They could be naked in moments. She could send the signal, reach for his shirt or lift her own. She could touch him and say yes and he’d be hers for a little while. It was so good to be touched this way. She wanted it so badly.
His hand slipped toward the small of her back, and she felt a startling jolt of wicked pleasure as his thumb snuck beneath fabric to slide against bare skin.
But when she gasped, the pleasure was swallowed by self-consciousness. Yes, in a few moments she could be naked with him. Too naked. Vulnerable and lost in what he’d do to her, gasping and needing and too damn aware that he did this all the time with all sorts of women. He was smooth, after all. Grace had warned her, and Merry had seen it herself when he’d made a point of turning on the charm.
That was what he was doing now, wasn’t it? Seducing a willing partner. Because she was here. Because there was a bed. Because she had all the needed parts. And maybe, if she’d never see him again, she could deal with that, but she couldn’t let him know her like this and then live with casual hellos and awkward conversations over the woodpile. It would mean too much to her and too little to him.
“Shane,” she whispered.
He hummed an approving sound against her neck just as his hand spread over her bare back.
“We can’t.”
His mouth froze against her. His shoulders tensed. Neither of them moved. He was probably still processing her words, and Merry didn’t want to give up this last contact. For one last moment, she was still in his arms, he was still hard against her, and his hands still hoped to coax pleasure from her body. But then he stepped away, his hands raised slightly as if to show he’d meant no harm.
