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He stripped them from her so quickly she gasped. His hands ran anxiously along her thighs, smoothing her skin, parting her legs easily, stroking her panties until she began to writhe anxiously, her blood thundering wantonly, throbbing with desire.
“I want you, Cassie,” he murmured against her hair. “Damn me to hell, but I want you.”
Somewhere in her passion-drugged mind she knew she should stop him, that lust didn’t mean love. But she didn’t care. In time he’d learn to love her just as she loved him.
“Touch me,” he breathed, guiding her hand.
Hesitantly she reached for the top button of his cutoffs. Her fingers flitted against his abdomen, and he drew in a swift breath, his own fingers delving, searching.
He groaned when she touched him, his muscles flexing. “Oh, Cassie.” Lips, full and hungry, captured hers, and he kicked off his clothes, his body in all its young, virile glory straining over hers. “I—I don’t have anything for protection—”
“I don’t need anything but you,” she whispered, watching him through glazed eyes.
Shuddering, he parted her legs with his own. He moved quickly then, thrusting into her, past the thin barrier of her virginity.
She gasped with the searing pain, a white-hot burst that he assuaged with his gentle, rhythmic movements. Cassie closed her eyes, and the sounds of the night faded. She could no longer hear the gentle drone of crickets, the quiet lapping of the lake, the wind soughing through the pines. She heard only the beating of her heart and the thundering cadence of Colton’s, felt only the liquid heat within her building with each joyful, binding thrust.
She dug her fingers into his shoulders as his tempo increased. Moving with him, she arched upward, her spine curving, her breasts full against him.
“I can’t hold back,” he cried, just as the first spasm sent her rocketing into a new, wondrous world. Light splintered before her eyes, and she heard him cry out lustily, the sound echoing through the trees.
“Cassie, Cassie,” he whispered, hoarse and clinging, his body fused to hers. He gazed down at her, and regret darkened his gaze. “Oh, God—”
“Shh . . .” She pressed a finger to his lips and smiled, but he closed his eyes and clung to her, as if blocking out an image he couldn’t bear.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“You—you were a virgin.”
“Of course I was!” She held his face between her hands. “There’s no reason to be sorry.”
“Oh, God, Cass, there are a thousand reasons,” he whispered, levering himself on one elbow and gazing down on her.
His eyes moved over her slowly, and his expression turned pained, guilt-ridden. “This wasn’t the right time,” he muttered, his muscles still glistening with sweat.
“It was perfect.”
“That’s the trouble, Cassie. You see things the way you want to see them. I see them for what they are.”
“And what was this?” she asked, almost afraid to know.
“This . . .” He smiled wistfully for a second before he swallowed hard. “This was—a mistake.”
“No!”
“Cassie, you’re not ready for any of this.”
“I know what I want.”
“You couldn’t,” he said, looking up to the darkening sky as if searching for answers.
“Colton? Talk to me.”
He ran a hand through his still-wet hair, and his fingers trembled. “I-I think we’d better get dressed.”
“So soon?”
