Time and Again

capabilities as a woman. "Time doesn't change everything, Caleb."
    "No." He was certain men had felt this stirring since the first dawn. But when he looked at her he was afraid that what he was feeling was far more complicated than basic attraction. His throat was dry, his palms were damp. The harder he tried to think rationally, the less clear his thoughts became. "Maybe we should talk about it."
    She resisted the urge to stare at her feet and kept her eyes on his. "Don't you want me?"
    "I've imagined making love with you a dozen times."
    She felt the thrill, and the fear, tangle in a race up her spine. "When you imagined, where were we?"
    "Here. Or in the forest. Or thousands of miles away in space. There's a pond near my house, with water as clear as glass and a bank of flowers my father planted. I've seen you there with me."
    It hurt, more than a little, knowing he would go back to that pond, to a place where she couldn't follow.
    But they had now. The present was all that mattered, all she would let matter. She crossed to him, knowing that they both needed for her to take the first step.
    "Here's a good start." She lifted a hand to his cheek. "Kiss me again, Caleb."
    How could he resist her? He was certain no man could. Her eyes were huge and dark, her lips were parted. Waiting. Slowly he lowered his, just brushing, testing. Her soft, yielding sigh seemed to fill him.
    Need did, a wild, urgent need. Shaken by the scope of it, he put his hands on her shoulders to draw her away.
    "Libby-"
    "Don't make me seduce you," she murmured. "I don't know how."
    With a strangled laugh, he pulled her hard against him, burying his face in her hair. "Too late. You already have."
    "Have I?" Her arms were around him, holding tight to what she told herself she would release without regret when the time came. A shudder had her gripping harder when he caught her earlobe between his teeth. "I don't know what to do next."
    Cal plucked her up into his arms. "Enjoy," he told her before he carried her up the stairs.
    He wanted her in the bed where he'd dreamed of her. In the pale light of the rising moon he laid her down. Whatever he had he would give her. What she had he would take. He understood pleasure, the degrees, the depths, the layers. Soon, very soon, so would she.
    Slowly he undressed her, drawing out the process for his own enjoyment and for the simple wonder of it. Every inch he uncovered delighted him, the slender ankles, the smooth calves, the curving shoulders.
    He watched her eyes widen and cloud with confused passions when he touched her, palms skimming, fingers trailing.
    Taking her hand, he brought it to his mouth to taste and savor. "I've seen you like this," he murmured.
    "Even when I tried not to."
    She'd thought she would feel awkward, even foolish. She lay naked in the splash of moonlight and felt only beautiful as he looked his fill. "I've wanted to be here with you, even when I tried not to." She was smiling when she lifted her hands to undress him.
    He was determined to be patient, to be thorough, to be very, very gentle. He knew, as he understood she did not, that there were hundreds of varied paths to fulfillment. This time, her first time, it would be sweet. Then her inexperienced hands made his blood leap under his skin. Seduction, unplanned, was potent. Once he covered her hands with his and bit back a moan.
    Her fingers tightened under his, and her body tensed. "Am I doing something wrong?"
    "No." He let out his breath on a quick laugh and forced himself to relax. "A little too right. This time."
    Shifting away, he slipped out of the rest of his clothes. "Remind me to ask you to undress me like that again later." He brushed her hair back from her face and began to kiss her. "This first time I have things to show you, places to take you." He nipped lightly at her chin. "Trust me."
    "I do." But she was already trembling. The brush of his body against hers, warmth to warmth, was like some strange, exciting dream. His hands roamed over her, whisper-soft, limber as a violinist's, and a knot of heat built from her center out to her fingertips before she could do more than wrap her arms around him. She melted into the kiss, into the long, luxurious depth of it. Then those clever fingers found a point, some pulse that beat under the skin near the base of her spine, and sent her reeling.
    His mouth muffled her cry of stunned release as her body arched, then went as fluid as water beneath his. Almost