He wasted no time, starting while they were still in the hall.
“I’ve made changes I–”
“Don’t you want to sit down, have some coffee or–”
“No. There’s a lot to tell you.”
Not yet. Don’t do this yet. Don’t leave me yet.
That was the instant she knew she couldn’t let him leave without loving him once more. She needed to hold him against her, inside her again. She needed that or she’d never be able to let him go forever.
“I talked to my parents, Kendra. I told them about Matthew, and you. I . . . I’m working at letting them in. They . . . They were touched.”
Tears welled up before she had any chance of stopping them.
“Oh, Daniel, I’m so glad.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek, below the scar.
His arms came around her and held her in place when she would have backed away.
“Why the tears? You’re supposed to be happy.”
“I am happy.” She smiled up at him.
The answering smile in his eyes heated immediately, taking on an intent that stirred her blood. When his mouth came down on hers, she parted her lips, and took him inside.
The thick softness of his hair covered her fingers as she felt the shape of his skull under her palm. His arms wrapped around her, locking their bodies together, while their mouths feasted and explored.
At last, he lifted his head, touched her lips again, as if to be certain they were real, then said, “I have more to tell you, Kendra. About my job–”
“You could tell me later.”
His narrowed eyes asked one question. She trailed her lips along his jaw, answering his need and her own.
“Later. Tell me later, Daniel.”
She stretched up to take his bottom lip lightly between her teeth, then slid her tongue over his lip, into his mouth. His tongue met her, enticed her deeper. Matched her rhythm. Their rhythm.
“Kendra . . .” He turned them both, so her back was against the hall wall, his elbows locked to keep them arm’s length apart. “Are you certain?”
That was the question. An echo of the doubt she’d heard in his demand after the rainstorm. Who am I, Kendra? Who am I?
“I’m certain, Daniel. About this, I’m certain.”
Dark eyes bore into hers. Then he bent his elbows and pressed against her, his lips tender against hers, his body fierce and taut.
“I swore the next time we made love it would be in a bed.”
She recognized the arrogance of his certainty that there would be a next time, when she’d been so adamant there would not. And she didn’t care. Not now. Not when she needed this last time to get her through the rest of forever.
She was certain, desperate even, yet that first step away from the wall, toward her bedroom, her knees nearly gave way. Without a word, he wrapped her tightly against his side. She slipped her arm around his waist, and held on. To him. To the moment.
Streams of sunlight from corner windows stretched wide over her bed. Atop the forest green comforter sat a pile of clean, folded laundry not yet put away–an emblem of mundane, practical life she was turning her back on for this moment. She scooped up the towels and socks, washed clothes and T-shirts and deposited them on the floor.
The motion brought her eye-to-eye with her tote, hanging by its straps from the arm of the corner chair. And that brought her face to face with the realities of what they were going to do–what they had done before–and its consequences.
Not allowing herself to hesitate but also not facing Daniel, she fished out the packet of condoms she had bought in Sheridan.
“I, uh, told myself we’d never use these, but as a practical matter, to have them on hand . . .”
He took the box from her hand, dropping it on the table beside her bed, and kissed her. Kissed her hard and gentle, hot and sweet, demanding and giving. Each kiss between them seemed not like a separate caress, but a continuation of the ones before and an introduction to the ones to follow.
Standing beside her bed, he lifted the hem of her sweater and she pulled it up. Before she’d freed her head, she felt his lips at the bared hollow in her throat, then lower, to the swell of her breast. She threw the sweater aside as his mouth closed over her nipple through the smooth fabric of her bra. The strong, pulsing pressure of his mouth echoed to her womb.
“I want to see you, Kendra. I want to see you.”
She told herself the urgency of Santa Estella shouldn’t drive them this time, there should be time and patience for exploration and leisure. But she had no patience. She wanted nothing between his mouth and her skin. Nothing between her hands and his flesh.
She pulled at her clothes, his clothes. Met his fingers at the same tasks. Hurried them, exulted in their mutual success with kisses, caresses and moans.
“We can make it slow this time,” Daniel said. She knew it wasn’t true, she didn’t want it to be true.
Both of them naked, he carried her down to the bed, pushing aside the comforter, skimming his hands over her as she reached for him. He was hot, smooth, hard. She tasted the salty musk of his skin, the taste she’d craved, the touch she’d dreamed of for three years.
A groan echoed through Daniel, and into her. He maneuvered away from her touch.
“Not yet–Slow. . .” He kissed her belly, then lower.
“No.” Her head rocked from side to side. “No, Daniel. Inside–together. Please.”
He held utterly still for a second, then he raised his head. “Kendra . . .” His breath was another torment of pleasure across her sensitized skin.
She twisted to reach the box on the bedside table, tumbling out the packets. Both of them, together, sheathed him. Her hands shaking, his hands covering hers, slowing the torture, lengthening the pleasure. Finished at last, she gulped in air,
