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Maybe she was developing a fever. Or maybe she’d been suffering from this particular fever for longer than she’d been willing to admit, she thought ruefully, resisting the impulse to nestle her cheek into his hand.
His smile faded as their eyes locked. “I haven’t told you yet how sorry I am about what happened. If I’d had any idea that anything like that would happen, I never would have dragged you to my reunion.”
Touched by the genuine regret in his expression, she lifted her hand to cover his on her cheek. “How could you have known? Aislinn’s as close to being psychic as anyone we know and even she wasn’t able to warn us not to go out on the lanai. I certainly don’t blame you, Joel.”
His thumb slid along the ridge of her cheekbone, just above the edge of the gauze bandage on her chin. “I haven’t told you how frightened I was when I saw you go over that edge. You scared the hell out of me.”
“You forgot that I’m in pretty good shape,” she reminded him. “I know how to take a fall.”
“You aren’t Superwoman. You could have been badly hurt. Or worse.”
“But I wasn’t. A few bruises and a few days off work. No biggie.”
“You must be sorry I ever mentioned my reunion.”
“Actually, it was an…interesting experience.” She couldn’t think of a better adjective, but she supposed that one summed it up well enough.
His lopsided smile expressed his own mixed emotions. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”
She couldn’t resist tilting her head just a little, rubbing her cheek against his hand in the process. “You’re probably the one who’s sorry Aislinn ever came up with the idea of taking me to your reunion. It hardly turned out the way you’d planned.”
“Not exactly, no.” And then he lowered his head toward hers. “Some things are better when you don’t plan them,” he murmured just before his mouth covered hers.
Simply because she wanted to, Nic wrapped both arms around his neck. Her bruised right shoulder screamed a protest of the movement, but she ignored it. Anything that felt this good was worth a little accompanying pain.
Careful of her bruises, Joel gathered her closer, his hands sliding around her waist to spread across her back. His palms were warm through the fabric of her pullover top.
Though her mind was beginning to cloud, Nic clearly remembered how it had felt to dance with him for the first time. So natural. So right. As if they had danced together many times before.
Kissing him felt much the same to her. As if she’d been wanting to k
iss him for a very long time. As if kissing him had been inevitable from the day they’d first met.
He released her mouth long enough to draw a deep, sharp breath and then he kissed her again, more deeply this time. There had been wonder in their earlier kisses. Daring. Maybe even a bit of rebellion against all the people who had warned them away from each other—including themselves.
This time there was passion. And a growing hunger Nic wasn’t sure they would be able to ignore for much longer.
She was finding it harder with each passing moment to remember why they should try.
He lifted his head very slowly, ending the kiss with an obvious reluctance. He didn’t release her but pressed his forehead to hers, his voice rough when he said, “I should probably stop doing that.”
Every nerve ending in her body rebelling at the very suggestion, she lifted her mouth to his again. “Don’t stop on my behalf.”
The kiss they shared then was hot enough to almost melt the soles of her boots.
Somehow they ended up on her bed. Maybe later she would remember which one of them had initiated that move, but for now she was too busy enjoying the feel of his hands on her body, his lips against hers. His hands were eager, avid as they raced over her—and yet his touch was gentle, almost tender, so careful not to cause her any discomfort from her assorted scrapes and bruises.
As if she could feel anything but pleasure at that moment, she thought with a low moan.
He stilled. “Am I hurting you?”
“Are you kidding? Has anybody ever told you you’ve got magical hands?” She closed her eyes and concentrated fully on the springy feel of his hair around her fingers. The solid weight of him pressed against her from chest to thigh. The masculine warmth seeping through his shirt and jeans. The hardness pressed so blatantly against her hip.
Wow, she thought in a daze of arousal. This was Joel. Her neighbor, her friend. And he wanted her. Wanted her badly, apparently. And she wanted him so much that she ached with it. Who’d have thought their friendly trip to his class reunion would lead to this?
Anyone with any sense at all, she answered herself with a flash of candid insight. This attraction had been building for some time. Part of her had been aware of it, to the point that she’d worried that going with him to his hometown would lead to something that might put their friendship at risk.
She still worried about that even as she opened her mouth beneath his again. But it was too late now to try to deny, to either of them, the way she felt about him.
