LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Wow. Now, that’s a vow.”

      “I’m so glad you approve.”

      She gave him her best Mona Lisa smile. “But you need to seal it with a kiss.”

      He didn’t even hesitate. There was no point. He accepted that now. Unless she called a halt, he was in. All the way. He bent and captured her mouth, tasted chocolate and heat and a sweet, slow sigh.

      She wrapped her arms around his neck and swayed closer. He felt the giving softness of her breasts against his chest. Not the least childish, the softness of those breasts. “Dami...”

      He pulled her closer still, not even caring anymore that she might feel him unfurling against her belly. He only went on kissing her, dipping his tongue into the moist heat beyond her parted lips, sharing her breath, the world a wonderful place that smelled of peaches and chocolate and something else, something of Lucy, fresh and clean and womanly, too.

      After a while, he lifted his head. He gazed down into those shining brown eyes.

      She whispered, “That’s three kisses from you. Give me another.”

      He drank in the sight of her flushed upturned face. “You’re greedy.”

      “I need a lot of kisses. I’ve been deprived.” And then she giggled.

      That did it. That naughty little laugh of hers made him greedy, too. He swooped down and took her mouth again.

      She cried softly, “Oh!” against his lips.

      And then he kissed her long and slow and deep, sweeping a hand down to press the small of her back, pushing his hips against her, aching to have her, to feel her tight heat all around him.

      She moaned a little, and she lifted her lower body up and into him. Eager. And so very sweet.

      That time when he lifted his head, she took the lapels of his jacket and guided them over his shoulders. He allowed that, catching it as it fell, tossing it onto a far chair. She started on the buttons of his shirt.

      He caught her hands, kissed them, one and then the other. “Anticipation is a fine thing.”

      She tipped her head to the side and considered. And then she blushed again. “I’m rushing it, huh?”

      “I want you right now,” he whispered. “I want to bury myself in you and hear you moan beneath me.”

      Deeper color flooded upward over her throat, her chin, her plump cheeks. Her scent intensified. “Oh. Well. Okay...”

      He bent and scraped his teeth along the side of her throat.

      She let out a small rough little sound and clutched him closer. “Dami...” She made his name into a plea.

      He caught her earlobe between his teeth and worried it lightly. Then he whispered, “Will you be guided by me?”

      Another sound escaped her, more tender than rough. She shifted her fingers up into his hair, pulling his head down into the warm woman-scented curve of her throat. “Yes. Please. That’s what I want. For you to teach me.”

      He took her shoulders then and gently held her away from him—just enough that he could meet her wide, dazed eyes. “First of all...”

      “Yes?” Breathless. Hopeful. Impossibly sweet.

      “We don’t have to hurry.”

      She groaned and then pressed her lips together.

      He touched her hair. Like living silk. “Say it. Whatever you’re thinking. Don’t hold back.”

      She winced. “Well, it’s just that, um, yeah, we kind of do have to hurry. I mean, it’s already Saturday morning. I’m flying home tomorrow. We need to get this done.”

      He wanted to laugh at her total frankness, but he didn’t. He held her gaze. “As your friend, I must warn you against men who say ‘trust me.’ But trust me.”

      She laughed then. “Oh, Dami.”

      “Do you trust me?”

      She didn’t hesitate. “I do. Absolutely.”

      “Good.” He caught her hand. “Come with me.”

      * * *

      Dazed, amazed, excited and very nervous, Lucy went where he led her.

      To his bedroom.

      It was a large room with a high, coffered ceiling from which hung a giant iron chandelier. The bed had an intricately carved headboard and finials shaped like crowns. The turned-back sheets were cobalt-blue satin, the bedding in deep blue and gold and red.

      Unreality assailed her. Alone with Dami in his bedroom. Who knew?

      He turned on a torchère lamp beside the bed nice and low. The chandelier was on, too, but also low. She could see clearly enough, but everything was soft and shadowed. Which was great. The pleasant dimness eased her nerves.

      At least a little.

      He took her shoulders again, his long fingers warm and sure against her bare skin. Still, she shivered at the touch, scared and also excited for what was to come.

      “Second thoughts?” he asked.

      Her mouth went dust dry. She swallowed to try to get some moisture going. “No. Really. I want to do this, I truly do....”

      His smile was way too knowing as he stepped back from her and began to undress, first dropping to a chair to remove his shoes and socks, then sweeping upright again and getting rid of everything else. Quickly, so gracefully, all his beautiful clothes were gone in what felt to her like an instant, as she just stood there staring.

      At least the saliva had flooded back into her mouth.

      He was a magnificent man, honed and tanned, with a broad, deep chest and shoulders and a belly you could scrub your laundry on. Her gaze trailed down over hard, narrow hips. The muscles in his long thighs were sharply defined. Even his feet were beautiful, long and perfectly shaped.

      She did more absurd gulping as she let her glance stray upward again. This time, she allowed herself to look directly at the most private part of him. He definitely wanted her. His manhood curved up, thick and fully aroused, from the dark nest of hair between those powerful thighs.

      That he wanted her was good. Excellent— Well, except for the definite largeness of him. She couldn’t help it. She wondered what all virgins probably wondered.

      “Seriously, Dami. Are you sure it’s going to fit?” The words were out and hanging in the air between them before she stopped to think how ridiculous they would sound.

      But he didn’t laugh at her. He only brushed a finger slowly down the outside of her arm, bringing the goose bumps to bloom where he touched. And he said in a low rumble, “I promise you, Luce. We’ll take all the time we need. You’ll see. It will fit. That’s how it is with men and women. We are made to fit.”

      “Well, of course I know that. But it’s still, um...yikes. You know?”

      He went very still, waiting—and watching her so closely, his eyes that strange deep black-green right then, dragonfly green. He asked, “Do you want to stop? Any time you want to stop, all you have to do is say the word.”

      “No. Uh-uh. I absolutely do not want to stop.”

      One corner of his sinful mouth quirked up. How did he do it? How did he stand there in front of her without a stitch on looking so comfortable in his own skin he almost didn’t seem naked at all?

      His finger started moving again, across the slim rolled-satin belt at her waist, pausing at the jeweled butterfly pin. He traced the shape of it and then he let his finger trail upward. He touched her breast just with that single finger. He found her nipple beneath the satin, inside the thin cup of her strapless bra. He rubbed his finger up and down until the nipple hardened.

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