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It was done in one fluid movement that ended with Bridget being lifted off her feet into his arms. Automatically she wrapped her arms around his neck, glorying in the male strength that carried her weight so easily. His gaze burned over her love-soft face before his mouth sought her eager lips again.
The living room sofa was his objective, sitting on it with Bridget across his lap. His hands caressed her waist and hips, arousing her, gliding down her thighs and back again. Every inch of her felt on fire, a molten mass of desire, her flesh yielding to his unspoken demands. She wound her fingers into the luxurious thickness of his golden brown hair.
“My God, I’ve waited so long,” Jonas declared in a throaty murmur against her cheek, pressing hard kisses on her smooth skin. “To hold you like this again.”
He lifted his head to look at her, desire blazing in his half-closed eyes. What breath she had was stolen by that searing look.
“I know,” she softly echoed his sentiment.
Her fingers began a tactile exploration of the lean, ruggedly hewn features she loved. They traced the jutting curve of his cheekbone and lightly stroked the hard angle of his jawline to his chin. From there, her fingertips outlined the firm male curves of his mouth, trembling slightly as he kissed them.
Then his head was bending her toward her again, seeking the hollow of her throat. “All the waiting and watching was worth it,” he said huskily. As he spoke, the warmth of his breath sent dancing shivers over the skin of her neck.
“Huh? You were watching me?” Bridget murmured with absent curiosity.
Her hands slid down the tanned column of his neck to the open collar of his shirt. She fingered the buttons, loosening them from the material to splay her hands over his rough-haired chest, warming them with the body heat radiating from his hard flesh.
“Now and then. From the hill behind the house,” Jonas admitted, nuzzling her collarbone. “Like a lovesick puppy.”
“I didn’t know that.”
His mouth trailed slowly up her neck to her soft lips, closing moistly over them, forcing them apart, although they needed little persuasion. He kissed her long and lovingly, and stopped only to whisper an explanation of sorts. “I didn’t want you to know that. I didn’t do it often. But seeing you now and then was never enough.”
“Oh, Jonas …”
“Shhh.” His weight pressed her backward onto the seat cushion of the sofa. Jonas shifted so that he was half lying beside her and half above her, their legs entwining.
There was seductive mastery in his deepening kisses, yet their passion was languorous, building slowly, as if each wanted to savor the soaring joy of the moment. Bridget trembled as he unfastened the buttons of her blouse and slid his hand inside to cup the fullness of her breast enclosed in a lacy bra.
Moving his lips from her mouth, Jonas directed his attention to the exposed swell of her breasts and the tantalizing cleft between them. Bridget shuddered at the intimate contact, her desire leaping at the dizzying caress.
“Where’s Molly?” Jonas asked huskily.
“Molly?” She felt completely disoriented by his heady nearness.
“Yes. Is she home? With your mother? God, I hope she doesn’t expect you back soon,” he groaned achingly and buried his mouth along the curve of her neck, becoming entangled in her silken chestnut hair.
“No, she’s at a … party.” Bridget caught at her breath as he located the sensual pleasure point near the nape of her neck. “A—a birthday party for one of her friends.”
“What time do you have to pick her up?” Jonas asked.
“I don’t,” she answered and felt the rigidity leave his muscles.
“Is someone bringing her home?” he asked with almost absent-minded interest, concentrating again on arousing a sensual excitement in her.
“No, she’s—” Bridget paused as he succeeded in side-tracking her thoughts.
“She’s what?”
“She’s spending the night with Vicki,” she finally managed to answer.
“Then you’re spending the night here,” Jonas declared huskily, “with me.”
The blunt statement acted as a brake to Bridget’s previously unchecked desire. When he would have again claimed possession of her lips, her fingers lightly pressed themselves against his mouth to stop him. “Jonas, wait,” she begged.
“That’s all I’ve done since I came back.” He pulled back a little and looked into her eyes, trying to fathom her sudden hesitation. “I love you, Bridget.”
“I believe that,” she said and had to swallow the sob in her voice. “I love you, too, but—” She admitted what she hadn’t been able to deny to herself.
