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“No one’s ever talked to me like you do. Or cared what I thought or felt. Or looked at me—with that look right there.” She tugged her sheet up.
“I like looking at you,” he said with a grin.
“No one’s ever seen me naked,” she added. “No one’s ever touched me the way you have. Or loved me enough to show me sex shouldn’t be an obligation or a cold act. With you...” She swallowed. “You make my body respond...lose control...and fall apart.”
He swallowed. She’d never had a man worship her body, never known what pleasure was...never had the love of a man. “It’s because I love you. I want to touch you, to kiss you, to make you fall apart in my arms—so I can catch you and love you all over again.”
“I want to fall apart with you,” she murmured as she reached for him. Her lips met his and she let the sheet drop, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close. How he’d managed to gain this woman’s love, he didn’t know. But he’d make damn sure he did everything he could to keep it.
Chapter Eleven
Kylee opened her eyes to the sun streaming in the window. Fisher lay at her side, his arm and leg draped across her and holding her in place. She smiled, too happy to move. She’d spent the night but there hadn’t been much sleeping.
“You awake?” His voice was muffled against her shoulder.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Are you?”
He chuckled. “I’m not sure. I’m pretty comfortable.”
She hugged the arm he had wrapped around her.
“But I smell pancakes,” he said. “And bacon.”
She froze. “You do?”
He nodded against her shoulder. “Probably Archer.”
“Archer?” she repeated.
He looked at her. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head.
He grinned. “You embarrassed?”
She grinned back. “No...maybe... I don’t know.” Her stomach growled. “But I am hungry.”
“You were the one that kept saying you weren’t hungry,” he argued.
“I wasn’t last night. But I’m starving now.”
He stretched, shifting his weight off her. “Let’s go eat.”
She rolled onto her stomach to watch him. She’d been amazed at how quickly her inhibitions had gone out the window. She was just as fascinated by his body as he was with hers. Every ridge and crease of his abdomen, the taper of his hips, the broad expanse of his chest...she liked looking at him—and the effect looking at him had upon her.
She headed for the shower, trying not to giggle or squeal when he climbed in beside her. He washed her hair, scrubbed her back and had a little too much fun with the washcloth. He tossed her one of his shirts and a pair of drawstring shorts. They were both too big, but they were clean.
He showed her around. The stairs led into a large room lined with books and family photos as well as a large stone fireplace and desk. Fisher referred to it as his office. On the other side of the room were two more bedrooms and another guest bath.
The best part of the space was the open wall. It gave the office the look and feel of a loft, and allowed them to peer down into the living room below.
She followed Fisher down the stairs and slammed into his back.
“Morning, everyone.”
Everyone? Should she run back upstairs? There was no way she’d get there undiscovered.
“Morning,” Archer said. “I made breakfast.”
