Sunburst

his tall, bronzed form without shyness, as his own gaze took in, savored, loved her smaller feminine frame.

No man has a more beautiful body than you do. Did you know that? Would you like me to shout it out…?

Every inch, Erica. Lord, I want you. Just as you are, this very instant…

They spoke with their eyes. They spoke in the way their lips joined, the way they both felt an identical sensual rush when their bodies finally touched. His hard thighs were pressed against her softer ones; her breasts swelled and tightened against his warm chest, and his skin…such supple skin beneath her kneading hands, which slid from the breadth of his shoulders to his taut male buttocks. He warmed beneath her hands, responsive to her every touch.

His lips left hers to trail down to her throat, silk-soft kisses that made her heart skip beats, that seemed to drug her into the illusion that she had left the ground. She had. Rather than bending, he lifted her playfully to kiss where he wanted, so that his face was level with her throat and then her breasts as he lifted her high, higher. Her legs wrapped around his waist for balance, and a husky sound escaped from her throat, half joyful laughter and half a helpless little groan as his lips burrowed between her breasts, his strong arms arching her back to offer the full satin flesh to his mouth. He raised her higher yet, pressing a kiss to her navel and then lower, his cheek brushing in that soft, curly triangle as she felt the crazy sensation of being weightless, higher than life, higher than breath.

When her toes touched the mossy earth again, there was still no sensation of reality. The spirit of soaring was intensified by the look in his eyes, by that deep turquoise brightness that came with loving, compelling tenderness. In some vague way, she was aware they were no longer standing but kneeling, then lying together on the soft moss. Her senses inhaled the shudder of need that racked Kyle’s whole body, the husky whispers of loving in her ears, the surge that encompassed both of them as limbs suddenly feverishly tangled with limbs, neither of them wanting to rush and both of them in such a desperate hurry…

“Kyle…”

“How I love to see you happy, Erica. I’m going to take you so high you’ll never come down…” He arched over her supple form, covering her, his kiss drowning the moaning cry in her throat when he joined with her. She felt so much love in his giving…

When the rain started falling, it made no difference at all, the soft, warm drops falling on skin that was already slippery. The scents around them intensified as if to prove that they were in another world. She almost hurt from so much love, a bursting joy within her, so loud that the thunder seemed quiet. She touched the sun and then seemed to explode…

Still he held her, rocking her back and forth until her heart stopped hammering, until they could both breathe normally again.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

She already felt that. He’d already told her, in the best way a man can tell a woman. She just looked at him. Rain was streaming down; his face was damp, his hair curling wildly-he was blinking the water from his eyes. There were bits of grass on his neck and shoulders and a near carpet of it on his back.

He helped her up and shook his head at both of them as he took in her own appearance. “How the hell am I going to put you back together so we can be seen in public again?” he growled in mock irritation, almost having to shout above the sound of the storm. He glanced up at the skies. “We have to be crazy!”

He tried to brush the grass off her back but the task was hopeless; the grass stuck to his fingers and her skin. Her bra refused to snap for him; her blouse, now soaked, did not want to go back on. She knew her hair was a wet tangle of grass, yet all she could do was look at him, her laughter part of the joy inside that just would not let her come back down to earth. Her eyes were a rich, dark gold, that certain sheen of color reserved for only one man’s cache of treasures.

Chapter 6

Morgan was waiting for them.

The late afternoon remained stormy, and the lights in the house were on. Erica was still laughing, Kyle pushing her ahead of him to hustle both of them out of the rain, although it was obvious there was nothing to hurry for-they were both soaked, cold and grass-stained. Erica was well aware that her hair was irretrievably matted and that her blouse was probably ruined with snags and blotches of green. She couldn’t have cared less…

Morgan was standing rock-still when Kyle closed the door behind them, locking out a distant crash of thunder. The bright lights in the kitchen heralded the fact that it was past their normal dinner hour. Morgan had started the meal for them. So thoughtful of him…but when Erica glanced up, she saw Morgan’s eyes narrowed on both of them, a grim expression on his face, that startled her from their laughter.

It must have been obvious what they had been doing. She shivered unconsciously, feeling the unwanted heat of embarrassment in her cheeks even as she glanced at Kyle. “We didn’t mean to be late,” she said in a rush. “We just went out for a little walk…”

“Yes, Erica,” Morgan said mockingly. He winked lewdly at Kyle, and she felt a wave of sheer distaste. Kyle appeared to ignore the wink as he offered her first crack at the shower and poured himself a glass of brandy.

She took the stairs two at a time. In the bathroom, she quickly discarded her damp clothes and turned on the hot water in the shower until the room was steaming. The pelting hot water soothed away the chill, yet she could not rid herself so easily of the resentment and annoyance she felt toward Morgan. She reminded herself how much help he was giving Kyle as she stepped out of the shower and enfolded herself in a thick, bright towel. She reminded herself, too, how much she cared for him, what a good friend he was…but she so desperately wanted to be alone with Kyle tonight! Since the building project had started, they had had a chance to put things back together, to reestablish communication, but Morgan always seemed to be there. They had had to steal away from their own home this afternoon…

By the time Kyle mounted the stairs, Erica had the hair dryer on full blast, a warm terry-cloth jumpsuit covering every inch of her in burnt orange. He said nothing, not that she could have heard anything over the whine of the dryer. Not, for that matter, that she would have said anything about Morgan…

She had never complained about Morgan in the past. These days, she thought fleetingly as she applied blusher and lipstick, Morgan was Mr. Consideration, all warmth and affection. It had not been that way when she first met him, at a time when he and Kyle had shared both a house and a reputation that would have put wolves on the kitty-cat list. The way Morgan used to look at her, the knowing expression that she saw on his face every time Kyle wasn’t looking.

Morgan’s bedroom should have had a revolving door; he certainly had no right to judge anyone else, but actually it wasn’t judgment she saw in his eyes-only a comprehension that had mortified her. He seemed to look at her and speculate about how it was with her and Kyle. She would have felt foolish telling Kyle of her unease around his best friend, and it wasn’t as if she’d felt ashamed.

She wasn’t ashamed. She was in love with Kyle, and if she worried constantly that it had all happened too fast and too powerfully, those thoughts never diminished her love. Kyle wasn’t looking for a child, and she had grown up, learned to look Morgan in the eye, wearing her love like a shield and her pride in that love like a cloak.

With one last flick of the brush, she finished dressing and headed back downstairs determinedly. Morgan had a glass of brandy waiting for her. He was wearing a charcoal short-sleeved shirt and lighter gray pants, the image of a manual laborer instantly dissolved by the skill and costliness of his tailor. Their conversation was stilted as they finished the preparations for dinner and waited for Kyle.

As she sipped at the brandy, Erica noticed hollows of weariness beneath Morgan’s eyes, and felt foolish for her uneasiness. Stop this, she scolded herself finally. Stop being so… silly. She found a smile for him, her real one, and the social graces to put him at ease. It occurred to her that he might not be comfortable in his position, as a third wheel. She did not have to remind herself again how hard he had been working-and only because he cared about her and Kyle.

Yet her nerves prickled uneasily once more when Kyle came back down, his damp hair curling at the edges of his collar, his pale blue shirt heightening the color of his eyes. He refilled his brandy glass before he sat down at the table, and for a moment Erica was afraid the easy laughter was gone; there was a hint of brooding stillness in him when he glanced at Morgan.