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He didn’t stop until he was standing directly in front of her. Then he cupped her face between his hands and lifted it toward his as he bent down and kissed her.
And she thought, Oh, God.
His lips were full and sensual, and they delivered what they suggested. His kiss was warm and sweet and earnest. He applied the perfect amount of pressure, leaving no question that she was being soundly kissed, but without making her feel overpowered or threatened. It was such a perfect kiss that her lips parted naturally. When his tongue touched hers, her heart expanded and her arms encircled his waist.
He lowered his hands, so that one arm was free to go around her shoulders while the other curved to fit the small of her back and to draw her against him full-length. He angled his head. Hers made a countermove. The kiss deepened, his tongue probing. The longer they kissed, the more ardent it became.
Then suddenly he broke away. He was breathing hard. His hands resumed their previous position on either side of her face. “That’s what I had to know. It wasn’t just me.”
She shook her head as much as his hands would allow it to move. “No,” she said, surprised by the huskiness of her own voice. “It wasn’t just you.”
“Follow me?”
Protests died on her lips before she could even speak them.
“I have a cabin not far from here. Two, three miles.”
“I—”
“Don’t say no.” His whispered voice was ragged, impassioned. His hands pressed tighter. “Don’t say no.”
Her eyes searched his, then she made a small, assenting motion with her head. He released her immediately, turned, and strode back to his car. She dropped the gas cap in her haste to screw it back in. Finally getting it secured, she rounded her car and got in. She started her motor; his car pulled up beside hers.
He looked at her as though to make certain that she was as resolute as he, that she wasn’t going to bolt and disappear the first chance she got.
Which she knew was what she should do. But she knew with just as much certainty that she wouldn’t. Not now.
* * *
Hammond didn’t take an
easy breath until her car came to a full stop beside his. He got out and went to open her door for her. “Watch your step, it’s dark.” Taking her hand, he led her up a crushed-shell path toward the cabin. A small porch fixture provided just enough light for him to see to open the lock with the key he had brought with him from Charleston.
He pushed the door open and ushered her inside. A local lady cleaned the place whenever needed. He had scheduled her to come earlier that day. Rather than smelling musty, like an empty, infrequently used dwelling, the cabin smelled clean, like freshly laundered linens. Per Hammond’s request, the air conditioner had also been left on, so it was pleasantly cool.
He closed the front door, separating them from the porch light and plunging them into complete darkness. He had every intention of being a good host and gentleman, of showing her around the cabin, of offering her something to drink, of telling her more about himself and giving her time to adjust to being alone with him only hours after their meeting. Instead, he reached for her.
She came willingly into his arms, seemingly as eager for his kiss as he was for hers. Her mouth responded warmly to the thrusts of his tongue that stroked and tested and tasted her until he had to pause to catch his breath. Lowering his head, he pressed his face into her neck, while her hands closed around the back of his head and her fingers combed through his hair.
He kissed his way up to her ear. “This is crazy,” he whispered.
“Very.”
“Are you afraid?”
“Yes.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
“You should be.”
“I know, but I’m not.”
His lips rubbed against hers in a not-quite kiss. “Afraid of the situation?”
“Terrified,” she said as her mouth dissolved against his.
