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“Why?”
He let out a long breath. “To forget you, Tessa,” he said. “To forget you, the fire, everything.” He glanced down at the scars on his hand and his mouth tightened. “Unfortunately I couldn’t, and alcohol didn’t make a damned bit of difference. So I gave myself a swift kick, picked up the pieces as best I could and threw myself into my work.” He kissed her crown as the ocean breeze snatched at her skirt. “And I did my best to forget you.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with the fire,” she said slowly. “I would never, never have done anything to hurt you.”
His arms slid upward and he took her face between his palms. “I know that now,” he whispered, his eyes shining as he slanted his mouth over hers.
His arms tightened and she fell against him, tilting her face upward, her lips eager for his. He pulled her against him, the length of his body protection against the stiff ocean breeze. “Make love to me, Tessa,” he whispered against her hair.
“Here?” She quivered inside. The beach was deserted, but houses and condominiums curved along the shoreline.
He grinned wickedly. “Inside.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her up the few steps to the deck. She had to cling to him to keep from slipping as he shouldered open the door and climbed the stairs to a loft that shared a view of the ocean with the living room below.
“Here,” he said, tossing her onto a huge bed with a patterned spread of forest green and pearl gray. Twining his fingers through her hair, he leaned over her, his weight causing the mattress to sag. “You don’t know how many nights I’ve dreamed of you,” he said. “Wished that you were here in my bed.” His voice was low and throaty, his breath hot against her ear. Lying beside her, he guided her hand to the buttons of his shirt. “Make love to me, Tessa.”
She slid the first two buttons through the holes, then pressed the flat of her hand to the hard muscles of his chest. She could feel his heart pounding wildly, knew its erratic cadence matched her own.
He moaned softly and his lips crashed down on hers, stealing the breath from her lungs and forcing liquid fire through her veins. She tingled expectantly and felt his hands slide beneath the elastic waistband of her skirt, slowly sliding the soft cotton down her legs and calves.
The bed creaked as he finished undressing her and rolled onto his back, guiding her to rest atop him. He watched the gentle sway of her breasts, nipples dark, above him. “Now,” he said, letting his tongue rim her lips.
She moaned, wanting more. Heat coiled deep within.
Denver slid lower, capturing the tip of one breast with his lips then circling the firm bud with his tongue. “Make love to me, Tessa,” he whispered. His breath was hot against her wet, taut nipple. “Make love to me all night long.”
She had no choice.
* * *
The next morning Tessa was up before Denver and had dashed down to a local market for groceries. She’d already poured beaten eggs into a pan and grated cheese for an omelet before she heard his familiar tread on the stairs.
“What’s going on?” he asked, poking his head into the kitchen. Sleep still clouded his eyes, his chin was dark with beard and his jeans hung low on his hips. His chest was bare and muscled and she had trouble dragging her gaze from him.
“When in California . . .” she said, motioning to the table, where fresh slices of oranges, melons and berries filled fruit cups and warm muffins were piled high on a small plate.
She was working at the stove. Slowly he sauntered over to her, slid his arms around her waist and clasped his hands over her abdomen, pressing her buttocks into his hips. She felt the bulge in his pants and her throat went dry.
“You should wear shorts more often,” he growled into her ear, his hands reaching upward to cup a breast through her T-shirt. The scent of recent lovemaking still clung to him and she felt like a bride on her honeymoon.
“Not very practical on the ranch.”
“Maybe you should stop being so practical,” he rasped.
“Maybe I already have.”
Twisting her in his arms, he slid his hands down her ribs, feeling each small indentation and watching as her T-shirt stretched across her breasts, displaying beneath the cotton fabric the hard buttons of her nipples.
“Hey, wait,” she breathed, her mind swimming under his magical touch.
“Breakfast—”
“Can wait.” He turned off the burners and hoisted her upward, balancing her back against the wall, forcing her legs to wrap around his hips. Her arms circled his head as he pressed his mouth over her T-shirt and suckled, wetting the fabric and drawing on the sweet nubbin hidden deep in the cloth.
“Denver, please—ooh—” she gasped as his hands cupped her bottom and she felt her shorts being dragged over her hips. Together they tumbled to the floor and she forgot about breakfast as he stripped them both of their clothes and made love to her with a passion that tore through her soul and left her trembling in its wake.
* * *
For two days, Tessa learned the secrets of Denver’s life in Los Angeles; she saw the wonder of Western sunsets blazing magenta and violet as the sun settled into the ocean. She smelled the salt of the sea and felt the ocean’s spray against her face. They walked hand in hand through the streets of Venice, exploring the shops and boutiques, sipping drinks in shaded patios or walking barefoot near the ocean, playing tag with the waves.
