mind. Transferring her hold on her skirt to one hand, she placed her fingers in his.
Let him close his hand about them and lead her up into the soft dimness of the summerhouse.
It took only seconds for their eyes to adjust; the last glimmer of light in the sky was reflected off the lake into the section of the summer-house built out over the water. They moved into that gray half-light. She twitched her fingers and he let them go, content to prowl in her wake as she glided to one of the arched openings where a wide padded bench filled the gap, a tempting place to sit and look out over the lake.
He had no eyes for the lake, only her.
He halted a few feet away; Caro drew in a deep breath and faced him. She was aware of the onrushing storm, of the dance of charged air over her bare arms, of the breeze plucking at tendrils of her hair. Through the twilight, she studied his face—briefly wondered why, with him, it was all so different. Why, when they were alone, here, by the pond—she suspected anywhere—it was as if they’d stepped onto a different plane, one where things were possible, acceptable, even right, that weren’t so in the normal world.
Regardless, they were here.
She stepped forward. Closing the distance between them, lifting her hands to slide them over his shoulders to his nape, she cupped his head, drew it down, stretched up and kissed him.
Felt his lips curve beneath hers.
Then they firmed, took control, parted hers. His tongue filled her mouth, his arms closed around her, and she had never been more certain that she was where she wanted, even needed, to be.
Their mouths merged, both eager to take, and then give. To participate fully in what they already knew they could share. Heat bloomed—in them, between them; the exchange quickly grew more demanding, more ravenous, more fiery.
His hunger was there, real, unfeigned, increasingly potent, increasingly undisguised. How strong was it? How lasting? Those were her burning questions—there was only one way to learn the answers.
She met him, taunted in response to his teasing, challenged and dueled. Then she stepped closer, fought to suppress her reactive shiver as their bodies met. Nearly fainted with relief—a delicious giddy faint-ness—at his reaction. Instantaneous, hot, greedy—almost violent.
His arms tightened, locking her to him, then his hand moved on her back, urging her closer still, then sliding, gliding lower, over the indentation of her waist, lower, over her hips to the swell of her bottom. To trace lightly, then cup, edging her closer, drawing her into his body so she could feel—
For one finite moment, all her senses stilled; for one instant, her mind refused to accept the reality, flatly refused to believe…
He shifted against her, deliberately, evocatively, seductively thrusting. The solid ridge of his erection rode against her belly, the soft silk of her old gown the flimsiest of barriers, in no way muting the effect.
Exultation rushed through her, welled, gushed; her mind seized, then whirled on a joyous tide.
He molded her to him; delighted, she wallowed, greedily grasping every sensation, holding each to her, balm to her old scars, and more, a tantalizing promise of what might be.
His desire for her was real, indisputably so; she’d actively evoked it. So could they… would he… ?
Was it possible?
Her breasts were swollen, hot, tingling; as deliberate as he, she shifted against him, sinuously pressing the aching peaks against his chest, easing and inviting, enticing.
Michael read her message with incalculable relief; never before had he been so driven by such a simple and powerful need. She was his and he had to have her. Soon. Perhaps even tonight…
He blocked off the thought, knew he couldn’t—wouldn’t if he was wise—rush her. This time he was playing a long game, one where his goal was forever. And that goal was too valuable, too precious, too fundamentally important to him—to who he was and who he would be, too much a central part of his future to in any way risk.
But she’d offered him an opportunity to make his case; he wasn’t about to decline.
He found it surprisingly difficult to free enough of his mind to take stock, to assess the possibilities. The vision of the padded bench beside them flashed through his mind; he acted on it, eased her back enough to straddle the bench, then drew her down to the deep cushions with him.
Her hands framing his face, she clung to the kiss. Leaning back until his shoulders propped against the arch’s side, he drew her with him, settling her within one arm. She went readily, leaning into him, her forearms on his chest, caught in the kiss.
He reached for her hips, eased her around within the V of his thighs, trapped her lips again, more greedily took her mouth, fed from it as he raised his hands, stroked down her back, and found the laces of her gown.
They were easily loosened. That accomplished, he slid his hands around, pushing her arms up, over his shoulders so he could close both hands about her breasts. She shuddered; he kneaded and she moaned. He drank in the sound, set himself the task of eliciting more.
But too soon she was quivering with need, her hands greedily, hungrily grasping—at his hair, his shoulders, sliding beneath his coat to spread and flex evocatively on his chest.
There were tiny buttons down the front of her bodice; fingers expertly flicking, he undid them, eased aside the fine fabric and reached within—cupped her breast through the thin silk of her chemise.
Her breath hitched, then her fingers firmed about his nape and she kissed him with almost desperate ardor.
His desire, already rampant, escalated; he met the demands of her greedy lips, then settled to pander to her ravenous senses. And his.
Within minutes they were both heated, both wanting and needing yet more. Unquestioning, he reached for the ribbon bows securing her chemise, with deft tugs unraveled them. Boldly drew the thin barrier down and set his palm to her breast, skin to naked skin.
The sensual shock shook them both. Their responses, instantaneous, seemed mutual, like strands of the same desire twining and tightening, growing stronger, gaining power through the simple fact that they both wanted this, needed this, somehow quite desperately needed the other, all the other could bring, could give.
He didn’t doubt she was with him when he pushed the halves of her bodice aside and laid her breasts bare. Reverently cupped the firm, swollen mounds in his hands; thumbs cruising, brushing her nipples, already tightly furled, he drew his head back, broke from the kiss, and looked down.
In the faint light her skin shone like pearl; its exquisitely fine texture felt like silk. Fine silk heated by the provocative flush of desire. He looked his fill, examined, caressed, and she shuddered.
Caro briefly closed her eyes, fleetingly marveled at the intense sensations slicing through her, that he so easily evoked.
She’d been this far before, but this time she felt immeasurably more alive. Last time… she thrust the old memories away, buried them. Ignored their taunting. This time everything felt so very different.
Opening her eyes, she fixed them on Michael’s face, drank in the lean, severe lines, handsome but austere. His attention was wholly focused on her, on her breasts… they weren’t large, were, indeed, rather underweight, yet the concentration, the intensity in his expression, was impossible to mistake. He found them satisfying, worthy…
As if he’d read her mind, his gaze flicked up to her face, briefly searched, then his lips curved… the tenor of that smile sent heat rushing through her.
He shifted. Eyes locking on hers, he released one breast, slid that arm around her waist, then eased her back over it.
And bent his head.
She closed her eyes, sucked in a breath as his lips touched her, as they cruised, firm and taunting, over the aching swell of her breast, then followed a tortuous path to its peak.
He teased, and she felt her body react as it never had before. Nerves unfurled, came alive, greedily reaching for sensation—for the sensations he created as he tormented her flesh, until it ached and pulsed. Spread over his shoulders, her fingers tightened involuntarily. She felt his breath warm on her nipple, then he lapped.
Licked, laved, and she gasped.
“Say my name.”
She did. He drew her nipple into his mouth and suckled. Strongly. She nearly shrieked.
