'I can't.'
He dipped his fingers inside her, and his head spun. She was hot and wet and more ready than she knew. 'Don't ask me to stop,' he murmured against her mouth. 'Don't ask me.'
'No. No, don't.'
She did scream then, a sound that should have shocked her, it was so wild and wanton. But her body was too busy rearing up toward him, poised on a spear of dark, drenching pleasure such as she'd never known. Everything inside her came to a fist, tensed violently, painfully, then burst free. She collapsed, weak as water, and thought she heard him groan.
'Again.' He was greedy now. He kept a hand fisted in the tousled sheet to keep himself sane, and urged her up, urged her over. She strained against his hand, poured into it, and the arms she'd wrapped around him slid bonelessly to the mattress.
Surrender, he thought. More, fulfillment. But now he would give her himself.
He covered her, slipped inside her, holding himself back as her eyes fluttered open on fresh shock. He took her slowly, drawing out each stroke, each pulse. His heart almost burst from the strain of control when she convulsed again. Deliberately, patiently, he stirred her, gaining unimagined joy as he felt her begin once more to tremble and race.
The shudder worked through him, ripping, demanding. This time he knew he would go with her. Finally, with her. He clenched at the hand she'd fisted in the sheet, covered it. And took the fall.
She couldn't stop shuddering. But she wasn't cold. Not cold at all. The heat from her body, and from Devin's, which lay over her, seemed to rise in waves that were all but visible. He was breathing hard, like a man who'd been racing, and his full weight was on her, pinning her to the mattress so that she could feel the springs pushing against her back.
It was lovely.
She understood, for the first time in her life, the secrets of the dark.
'I know I'm crushing you,' he managed. 'I'm trying to move.'
'You can stay.' She wrapped her arms around him to keep him there. He was still inside her, still there. It felt wicked and wonderful. 'I like it this way.'
'I appreciate you putting up with all that, seeing as you're not big on sex.'
The dry tone alerted her, but she was too delighted to mind being teased. 'I didn't mind,' she said, and smiled against his throat. 'Devin, it was wonderful. I actually—'
'I know. Several times. I counted.'
She laughed, and didn't feel at all embarrassed. 'You did not.'
'I certainly did.' He found the energy to lift his head and look down at her. 'You can thank me later.'
Her smile sweetened. She'd never had a man look at her like that, all hazy-eyed and satisfied and sleepy. 'It was all right.' Incredibly moved, she lifted a hand to his cheek. 'Wasn't it?'
'It was worth waiting for.' He turned his lips into her palm. 'But I'm not waiting another twelve years to have you again.'
'I don't want you to.' Everything inside her was dreamy and disjointed. 'You're so handsome.'
'The curse of the MacKades.'
'I mean it.' She lifted her other hand, framing his face. It was so easy to touch him now, to let her finger trace that wonderful dimple beside his smile. 'Do you remember how I used to come out to the farm sometimes when I was a girl, to visit with your mother?'
'Sure. You were a pretty little thing, skinny, and I didn't pay you much mind. My mistake.'
'I used to watch you. In the summer, especially. When you'd be working with your shirt off.'
His grin flashed. 'Well, well, little Cassie...'
'I had a terrible crush on you for a while, and these really imaginative fantasies.' She chuckled. 'Well, I thought they were imaginative, until now. Nothing came close. I can't believe I'm saying this, talking to you like this.'
'Under the circumstances, you can say pretty much anything.' He was hoping she would. He could feel himself hardening inside her.
'I was about twelve, and you were always nice to me. All of you were. I loved coming out there, just to be there. But it was a bonus when it was summer and you'd be bare-chested and sweaty. Like you are now.' Experimentally, she traced a finger over his shoulder. 'All those muscles shiny with damp. Your body...it's so beautiful. Sometimes you'd come into Ed's, and when you'd go out, if there were women in there, they'd roll their eyes and sigh.'
'Come on.'
'Really. Of course, if one of your brothers came in, they'd do the same thing.'
'Don't spoil it.'
She laughed, lifting a hand to push tousled hair from her cheek. 'Okay. They sighed louder, and longer, for you.'
'That's better.'
'And Ed would say something like 'That Devin MacKade's got the best buns in three counties.'' She caught herself on a giggle, her eyes going wide. 'I shouldn't have said that.'
'Too late. Besides, I know Ed's partial to that particular part of the anatomy. She's told me.'
'She's shameless.' With a long sigh of her own, Cassie wound her arms around him again, let her hands wander down. 'But you do have an exceptional seat.'
'Now you've done it.' As her fingers brushed over his hips, he began to move inside her. Nothing could have pleased him more than seeing the way her eyes rounded in surprise.
'But how can you— Oh my God!'
'It's no trouble,' he assured her. 'It's my pleasure.'
And after, a long time after, he curled up beside her on the cot, his face buried in her hair, his legs tangled with hers. As she had hoped, as she had needed, he held her.
Chapter 8
It was barely dawn when Cassie crept into her own kitchen. She felt giddy, like a teenager sneaking home after curfew. Not that she'd ever broken curfew, she thought now. Not that she'd ever done anything except exactly what was expected of her.
It made her hushed, secret return all the more liberating.
She'd just spent the night, all night, with the most exciting, beautiful, the most gentle man she'd ever known.
She, Cassandra Connor Dolin, was having an affair.
She had to slap her hand over her mouth to muffle a burst of laughter. Her heart was still racing, her head still swimming, and her body...her body felt as though it had been polished with flower petals.
She was sure she looked different, and tried to see her reflection in the chrome of the toaster. Because she was alone, she allowed herself three quick spins before putting the kettle on for coffee.
Then, being a mother, she padded toward the bedrooms to make sure her children were snug and asleep. Turning from Connor's room, she stifled a gasp. There was Ed, her fire-engine hair done up in squashy pink rollers, wearing a wildly flowered robe of pink and blue.
'I'm sorry,' Cassie whispered. 'I didn't mean to wake you.'
'You were quiet as a little mouse. I was listening out for you.' Ed took a long, measuring look, and liked what she saw. 'Well, well, I believe you're feeling good and smug this morning. About time, too.'
Cassie cast a last look at her sleeping son, then backed down the short hallway toward the kitchen. 'The kids didn't give you any trouble, did they?'
'Of course not. Never heard a peep out of either of them.' Grinning, Ed followed Cassie into the kitchen, watched while she busied herself measuring out coffee. 'You going to tell me about it, or am I going to have to use my imagination? I got a damn good one.'
The heat rose to Cassie's cheeks, but it was from pleasure as much as embarrassment. 'I stayed with Devin.'
'I figured that out, sweetie pie.' Very much at home, Ed popped bread into the toaster. 'From the look on your
