Carolina Moon

sensation. Surrender wasn’t always weakness. “I’m thinking about it.”
    He smiled then, a lazy slide of amusement with power at the edges. “You just keep right on thinking. I’ll keep right on taking advantage.” He undid the first button of her shirt, then the second.
    He’d taught Hope to ride a bike, she thought. He’d only been ten years old, and already man enough to care.
    He’d sent flowers today. The right flowers, because he’d known they’d please her.
    Now he was touching her as she hadn’t been touched in so long.
    “I’m out of practice.”
    He flipped the third button open. “Thinking?”
    “No.” Her breath came out on a shaky laugh. “I’m very good at thinking most of the time.”
    “Then think about this.” He gave her shirt a little tug to pull it from the waistband of her slacks. “I want to touch you. I want to feel your skin under my hands. Like this.” He skimmed them up her sides, down. Her stomach quivered when he unhooked her slacks. “No, keep your eyes open.”
    He leaned forward, caught her chin in his teeth. A brief nip that shot an ache down the center of her body. “Since you’re out of practice, I’ll just guide you through. And I want you looking at me when I touch you.”
    Look straight ahead, he’d told Hope. And had steadied her.
    “I want to look at you,” she told him.
    He lowered the zipper, slowly, knuckles grazing against her. Her own low moan echoed like thunder in her ears.
    It had been so long since a man had wanted her. Since a man had made her want. She wanted to tense, go rigid at the thought of the invasion of privacy, of self. But her body was already yearning.
    “Step out,” he murmured when her slacks pooled at her feet. As she blinked, opened her mouth to speak, he simply covered it with his. Gentle and warm, somehow reassuring even as the edge of something reckless shimmered at the edges.
    Then his arms were around her, sliding and skimming over her back as he circled her, a kind of seductive waltz toward the doorway.
    Nerves chased after the heat that rose to her skin. “Cade.”
    “I want to take you in the light.” She was already his. No barrier of doubt would stop him. “So I can see you when you’re under me. When I’m inside you.”
    At the door of the bedroom he lifted her. “There are all manner of things I’ve imagined doing to you in this bed. Let me.”
    The sun streamed rich and gold with the spring evening. It washed over the bed, over her face as he laid her down. The mattress gave under his weight, and he linked his fingers with hers. Restraint and unity. And watching her, always watching her, he took her mouth.
    Slowly at first, and sweetly, until her hands relaxed under his, until her lips softened, parted, invited. He felt her heartbeat begin to slow, begin to thicken. And as she opened for him, he changed the texture and set to ravage.
    The sudden demand stabbed into her, shocking the senses, scraping the nerves. She arched as heat balled in her belly, and the groan strangled in her throat. He aroused her to shudders with his mouth.
    He didn’t want her to anticipate. Wanted all her senses stunned and her mind empty of all but pleasure. She would think of him, only of him. He would see to it. When she was steeped in him, finally, he would have her.
    Her body was slender, the muscles surprisingly firm, almost tough, with delicate skin a delightful contrast. He indulged himself in the taste of it, while part of him calculated how to exploit those nerves and destroy every barrier.
    He dragged her up, hands rough, grip near to bruising, ripping another gasp from her as her head fell back, her hair tumbled. Then he used his fingertip to nudge the straps of her bra over each shoulder. He danced his fingers lightly over the swell, with his thumb circled her nipples through the cotton.
    “Is it coming back to you yet?”
    Her head was so heavy, her skin so hot. “What?”
    “Good.”
    He unhooked her bra, drew it aside. But when she reached for him, he pressed her hands flat on the bed, sliding them back until her elbows locked. “I want you to take this time. Take until you can’t take anymore. Then you’ll let go, and you’ll give. Everything.” His mouth all but savaged hers, ripping down to her gut with one jagged and panicked thrill.
    She wanted to resist, to push him back before he dragged her over a line she’d sworn never to cross again. But then his mouth was on hers again, the scrape of