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Emma shook her head. "No. In fact, I was just thinking about how warm it is tonight. It's unusual for this time of year."
Sam smiled. "It isn't the weather, Emma."
"No?" What else could it be? Sam's grin widened, and his meaning became clear. She felt her cheeks flush. "Oh-- no, it isn't ... I can't ..."
"Yes, it is, and you can." Sam let her hair fall across her shoulders once more, and cupped her chin. "You're a normal woman, Emma, and there's nothing wrong with wanting love from a man."
Emma shook her head. No, there was nothing wrong with wanting love, but plenty wrong with watching the man you love turn from you in disgust when he looked at you.
The man you love. The words ran through Emma's brain. Yes, she admitted to herself again. Sam was that man. The man she loved. She hadn't expected it to happen, she hadn't wanted it to happen. But it had. Somehow, she'd fallen deeply in love with the man beside her, with his kindness, his honor, even his stubborn pride.
And even now, days after she'd discovered how deep her feelings were for him, the force of those emotions still surprised her.
She looked at him then, seeing him in a new light. Suddenly, she began to think about fragile intimacy of their relationship, and she realized their life together might come to an end. Very soon.
"Love isn't part of this marriage, Sam. We made a deal."
"We're talking about a kiss. Nothing more. Unless you want it."
"Sam, I don't think--"
"Good. That's the plan," he said. "No thinking. Just kissing."
His heart beat steadily beneath her hand, and her own heart skipped in response. She took in an unsteady breath, praying for the strength to pull away, but instead, she breathed in the scent of leather and soap and sunshine. Sam's scent. And she was lost. "A kiss?" she asked weakly. "Just a kiss? Nothing more."
The lines beside his mouth deepened. "That's all I'm asking for. But if you want to give more, I won't refuse."
Oh, mercy. How could she resist him? He was looking at her with an expression bordering on ... was it love? Was it possible he could feel the same way she did? Could there possibly be a future for them? Or would her heart be broken once more?
Emma could no more pull away from him than she could stop breathing. And, Heaven help her, she didn't want to escape. Sam shifted and drew her into his arms. In her brain, reason fought for control, but desire was so much more powerful.
His lips found hers, touching them as tenderly as he'd caress an infant. She'd thought it was impossible for this kiss be better than the one before, but she was wrong. It was as if her lips had memorized his, their texture, their shape, their taste. Her lips met his as if they were meant to be joined, and she stopped breathing, afraid that she might spoil the moment if she took a breath.
Reaching up, she touched his face, her fingers feeling the rough stubble on his chin. Her hand drifted around to touch his hair. Strange, she thought. It was much softer than she expected it to be. She threaded it through her fingers, revelling in the feel of it.
Emma closed her eyes, surrendering to the feelings flowing over her. She felt her breasts strain against the thin cotton of her chemise and a gnawing sensation somewhere between pleasure and pain settled deep within her belly.
His tongue teased her lips, and she parted them, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, finally mating with hers. She almost moaned aloud at the heady sensations washing over her.
He drew his lips away. She'd never felt this way, and she hadn't known what she was missing. This was ... wonderful.
She should stop him. And she would. In a few minutes. One more kiss. Just one.
Sam let out a deep groan as he released her and shifted, twisting his body to lean against the porch railing. He moved until he found a comfortable position, then smiled at Emma as he drew her back into his arms.
She was half-sitting, half-lying against his chest, her body resting snugly against his. She could feel his heart thundering between them. Or was it hers? She had no idea, and right now, she didn't care. All that mattered was the touch of Sam's lips on hers.
Her senses whirled. His lips left her mouth, grazing her jaw, her forehead, the soft skin beneath her ear. His breath tickled her cheek, and his roughened skin only heightened her awareness of him.
Suddenly, she felt Sam's hand on the swell of her breast, his thumb grazing the tip. The sensation was so intensely pleasurable she gasped. His touch as he palmed her breast was gentle, yet at the same time possessive.
Emma's breath caught. This was so natural, so, so right. If only they could stay like this forever.
Her nipple hardened, and Emma couldn't hide her surprise. She'd had no idea this could happen ...
"Sam ..." she said breathlessly, lifting her head to look into his dark eyes.
"Hush, Emma," he murmured. "Now isn't the time to talk." His lips drifted downward into the hollow of her throat, and somehow, the buttons of her blouse opened. How that had happened she didn't know, but at that moment, she didn't care. Cool air caressed her bare skin, and in turn, Sam's lips heated it. The contrast sent shivers of desire coursing through her, making it impossible to think clearly.
