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“Coward,” he drawled, but with pure affection. “Don’t you want to know how it feels?”
“Of course I want to know,” she returned sharply. “But the less we do together, the easier it will be to forget when you leave.”
“I’m not leaving yet,” he murmured, and his mouth closed her eyes and moved tenderly all over her flushed face. While he was doing that, his hand was under her arm, not in any intimate way, but in such a way that she wanted it to be. She shivered and twisted involuntarily toward him.
“It’s like shooting fish in a barrel,” he murmured as his mouth found hers. “I should be ashamed of myself.”
Her arms slid up around his neck and she lifted herself, just enough that his hand smoothed up over her firm breast.
“Oh . . . glory,” she ground out.
“And that was your first mistake,” he whispered roughly. “Come here!”
The kiss was no longer teasing. It was hungry and hard and full of frustrated passion that made her sob.
His hand was at the base of her spine now, turning her hips into his so that she felt immediately what was happening to him.
He groaned. It had been such a long time since he’d felt passion. Angie didn’t really inspire it. She liked it hot and fast and over, so he got used to it that way. But this woman was delicate and fragile, and he wanted to treat her like porcelain. She invited tenderness. She invited a hunger that was unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life.
She knew she couldn’t save herself by protesting physically. He was getting in over his head. So she looked into his eyes, with her face flushed and her breath coming in gasps.
“I hope you want a baby right away,” she stammered, “because I don’t have anything to take and it would embarrass me to tears to go to my elderly doctor and ask him for birth control.”
He stopped at once, half shocked, half amused at the desperation in her voice.
He looked down at her with affection, despite the ache she’d given him. “I could go with you and explain why we want it,” he offered.
She hit his chest with a little fist. “That wasn’t nice.”
He wrinkled his nose and grinned at her. “We’d be good together.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “I know.”
“But a child shouldn’t be born because two people lost their heads.”
She nodded.
“Or because one of them was too shy to ask for a prescription.”
She nodded again. It was easier than trying to think up something witty to say.
He smiled tenderly and bent to brush a shivery soft kiss against her warm, swollen lips.
“There’s also the excuse that I’m too tired. And it isn’t really an excuse. I didn’t sleep last night,” he murmured.
“Why?” she asked curiously.
“I tend to dwell on things when I lie down and cut off the lights. Things . . . bother me.”
She cocked her head. “Things that happened to you, or things you did?”
“Both.” And he was suddenly businesslike and abrupt. He got up, bringing her with him. He stood up. “Thanks for folding my clothes,” he said, and he couldn’t keep the affection out of his deep voice as he looked at her, seeing the visible evidence of his passion. She looked good with her hair disheveled by his fingers, her mouth swollen from his kisses.
“You’re welcome.” She smiled up at him. “It’s very . . . unusual, isn’t it?” she added and became somber. “I mean, someone seeming so familiar, someone you’ve never met before.”
He nodded. “Very unusual. That’s why we both have to do our best to ignore it.”
“Because you won’t live in the wilds of Colorado,” she agreed, and her pale eyes twinkled.
