Rafe choked on a laugh. “No? In that case, I’ve been wasting my time all these years.”

“Yes, you have,” she retorted. “What needs to be perfect is who you’re making love with.”

He closed his eyes and swallowed. Hard. “Hell, sweetheart. Don’t say that. I’m not perfect.”

“No, you’re not.” He caught the tart edge underscoring her words and couldn’t help chuckling. “But in this moment, you’re perfect for me. Right man. Right place. Right time.”

“But no pressure.”

Her laughter bubbled up to join his. “None at all.”

She made short work of his remaining clothing, removing the last of the barriers separating them. He gathered her up, spreading her across the bed. Moonlight picked a path into the room through the French doors leading into the yard. It was almost as though she drew the light to her. It seemed to rejoice in her presence, gilding her with its radiance and turning her skin and hair to silver. Only her eyes retained their vibrancy, glittering a glorious turquoise-blue that rivaled the most precious gem in his family’s possession.

He studied her with undisguised curiosity. Had she always been this small? This delicate? How could something so ethereal contain such a huge personality? Slowly he traced her features, finding a whimsical beauty in the arching curve of her cheekbones and straight, pert nose, her wide, sultry mouth and pointed chin. Then there was her body, superbly toned and supple.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more beautiful,” he told her.

She shook her head. “Lots of women are more beautiful.”

He stopped her denial with a slow, thorough kiss. “Not to me. Not tonight.” He pulled back a few precious inches, reluctant to separate them by even that much. “Shall I prove it to you?”

Her eyes widened and she nodded, a delighted grin spreading across her mouth. “If you must.”

“Oh, I must.”

He cupped her breasts, their slight weight fitting comfortably in his hands. Then he bent and tasted them, one after the other, scraping his teeth across the rigid tips. Her breath escaped in a gasp and she arched beneath him, offering herself more fully. She shifted beneath him, fluid and flowing, parting her legs to accommodate him. And all the while her hands performed a tantalizing dance, tripping and teasing across him, one minute urging him onward, the next startling him with an unexpected caress.

It became a game, each trying to distract the other, their need and tension escalating with each passing moment. He discovered that her legs were incredibly sensitive, and that if he traced a line along the very top of her thigh and eased inward to the moist heart of her, she’d quiver like the wings of a newly hatched butterfly.

Their game came to an abrupt end when she darted downward between their bodies and cupped him, delighted by his surging response. “Larkin,” he warned. “I can’t wait much longer.”

She squirmed in anticipation. “I don’t want you to wait.”

He snagged the condom he’d had the foresight to stash in her nightstand table. An instant later, he settled between her thighs. He lifted her knees, opening her for his possession. But he didn’t take her immediately. Instead, he slowed, making sure that the culmination of their lovemaking would be as pleasurable as the dance that had preceded it. Gently he parted her, found the secret heart hidden within and traced the sensitive nubbin.

She shuddered in reaction, lifting herself toward his touch. He slipped a finger inward, then two, and felt the velvety contraction of impending climax. “Rafe, please,” she whispered. “Make love to me.”

He carefully surged forward, claiming her as his own. She reached for him and he laced her hand in his. Their palms joined, melded, just as their bodies joined, melded. Heat flashed between them, sharp and penetrating, building with each thrust of his hips.

Larkin rose to meet him, singing her siren’s song, calling to him in a voice that penetrated straight to his heart, straight to his soul. It lodged there. Her sweet voice. Her heartbreaking gaze. The tempered strength of her body as it surrounded him, held him. Refused to let him go.

Never before had he felt anything remotely similar to this. Not with any other woman. It was as though the mating of their bodies had mated every other part of them, forging a connection he’d never known existed. Heat blazed within his palm, while an undeniable knowledge blossomed.




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