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What was I saying? Oh yeah… “Maybe we…shouldn’t do this.”
“Why not?”
“Because…you…” Good God, his mouth was making it damn hard for her to concentrate. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to focus. “You were…just in a car accident.”
“Which makes me twice as happy to be here right now.”
“I’m serious,” she protested with a half-hearted push against his chest that did absolutely nothing.
“So am I.”
His hand slipped beneath the hem of her sweater while he kissed her neck. Her stomach quivered beneath his fingers.
“Haven’t you heard about life and death situations making people want to reaffirm life?”
“Yes.” Her eyes popped opened, and she blinked at the log rafters on the shadowed ceiling. “Wait—is that all this is?”
“Hell no.” He pulled back to lock his gaze with hers and his breath caressed her lips again. “After the past week, how can you even ask that question?”
“You’re right. Sorry.”
He kissed away her sheepish smile. “However, there is no one I’d rather reaffirm life with than you. You in?”
His husky tone was like golden honey, warm and sticky, flowing down her spine as he weakened her last bit of concerned resistance.
She laid her palms against his stubble-covered jaw and whispered her approval against his lips. “I’m all in.”
As his kiss threatened to consume her, he leaned her back, shifting her off his lap until he could maneuver to cover her body with his on the couch. Kissing him was amazing, but impatient for his touch, she pushed him back into a kneeling position and sat up to drag her red sweater over her head. By the time she’d tossed it aside, he’d managed to unhook her bra.
She caught the material before it fell away from her breasts. “Had lots of practice with that, have you?” she challenged with a lift of her eyebrows. Anything to distract from the brief worry he would be disappointed that her curves up top weren’t centerfold measurements.
“I’ve always been good with my fingers,” he replied.
“All that typing you do?”
“Exactly.” He traced one finger up her arm, hooked it in the loose strap, and slid it off her shoulder. “Let it go, Gina.”
A thrill shot through her at his low-voiced command. She released the bra and he pulled it from her grasp. Her reward was a kiss that laid her back onto the couch until the light sprinkle of hair on his chest teased her tight, aching nipples. She wanted his weight on her. His hands. His mouth. Desire made her arch up against him as she moaned against his lips.
He threaded his fingers with hers and raised her arms above her head, his grip firm. When he lifted his head, those darkened brown eyes met hers, so full of heat and promise.
“Trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then I want you to stay just like this. Promise?”
She swallowed in nervous anticipation, but didn’t hesitate to nod her agreement.
That’s when her real torture began. He pushed up and sat back. She watched his gaze as it traced every inch of her exposed flesh. Her breasts moved with each shallow, expectant, self-conscious, aroused breath she took.
“You are amazing,” he murmured. “Perfect.”
She held her breath as he leaned forward. His fingers tugged on the button of her jeans, and she had to keep from huffing in frustration when he didn’t touch her breasts. God, he was killing her here. Once the zipper was down, she lifted so he could pull the denim over her hips before whisking them off, along with her socks.
Lying there with only her red panties on, she’d never felt more vulnerable. Or beautiful. His eyes worshiped her body so thoroughly, all her self-doubts were cast aside, and she could only imagine the sensations when he began touching. If he planned to tonight, she’d really like to know.
“Dean…” She bit her tongue before the please could escape.
