Eclipse Bay

sparked along every nerve ending. The effect was not unlike touching a match to extremely dry kindling. The flames erupted without warning, fierce and intense. A liquid heat welled somewhere in the region below her stomach. She was aware of the beat of her own heart. The breathless sensation would probably have warranted a trip to the emergency room under other circumstances.
    Rafe deepened the kiss with slow deliberation.
    The stuff of teenage fantasies, she thought. Except that no teenager could have appreciated just how good the kiss really was. Only an adult woman who had learned the hard way that real life was seldom this great could savor the finer points and the little nuances here.
    Rafe crowded her gently up against the counter. She could feel the unmistakable shape of his erection pressed against her thigh.
    Okay, so not all of the nuances here were little.
    His mouth slanted across hers. He drew his palms down her throat and covered her breasts. A great urgency went through her. With an effort, she managed to let go of the counter edge. She heard him say something that probably would have gotten him arrested if he had said it in public. He made no effort to conceal his hunger. The knowledge that he wanted her played havoc with the last shreds of her common sense.
    Just a kiss, she thought. How much damage could one kiss do?
    She heard someone moan softly. Probably her, she decided. Not real cool. It was only a kiss, after all. But at the moment she did not care if she was demonstrating a distinct lack of worldly sophistication. The only thing that mattered was getting her arms around Rafe’s neck.
    The instant she achieved her goal she heard a husky groan. Not her this time. Rafe.
    His hands tightened abruptly. She could feel his control slipping away. She wondered if he was aware of it. Then she wondered what she would do if it vanished altogether. Would she care? Should she care?
    The world tilted on its axis. She realized vaguely that Rafe had scooped her up into his arms. A shiver went through her.
    He paused briefly to switch off the lights. Then he carried her out of the kitchen into the living room. There he put her down on the aging sofa and lowered himself on top of her. His lips went to her throat. She could have sworn she felt his teeth. Another zinging thrill shot through her. She was shivering now. The weight of his body crushed her into the cushions.
    At the sound of dog claws scratching on wood, she opened her eyes for a split second. In the shadows she caught a glimpse of Winston hurrying up the stairs to the second floor. Embarrassed by the unseemly behavior taking place on the sofa, no doubt.
    She ought to be embarrassed too, she thought. And maybe she would be. Later.
    In the meantime, her body was singing a fascinating melody. She had caught a few chords of this particular tune from time to time over the years, but she had never experienced the grand finale.
    She felt one of Rafe’s hands slide beneath her sweater. The clasp of her bra dissolved at his touch. When his thumb lightly touched her nipple she almost screamed. It was as though every inch of her had been sensitized. She was in some never-never land where the line between acute pleasure and pain was murky.
    “I’ve been thinking all day that it would be like this,” Rafe muttered into the curve of her shoulder. “I was going crazy waiting to find out.”
    His hand moved over the curve of her hip. She felt his fingers on the zipper of her slacks. Things were moving swiftly. Much too swiftly. But she could not seem to summon up a lot of good reasons for calling a halt.
    She heard Winston on the stairs again. For some reason the knowledge that her dog had returned to the scene cleared some of the fog from her brain.
    “I think this is far enough,” she managed to get out.
    “Not nearly.” Rafe peeled up the edge of her sweater and kissed one of her breasts. “I’ve been wanting you since you got here.”
    “That’s nice.”
    He went very still. Then he raised his head and looked down at her with gleaming eyes. “Nice?”
    “I’m flattered. Honest.”
    “Flattered,” he repeated carefully. “Great. Flattered. Shit.”
    She swallowed. “I don’t want you to think I’m a prude, or anything, but—”
    “But you’re still Miss Goody Two-Shoes, is that it?”
    “Not exactly.” She was starting to grow annoyed. “It’s just that in a lot of ways you and I are strangers.”
    “You’re a Harte. I’m a