I am never going to forget this man.
“Catalina,” Slater whispered into her hair, “this isn’t the time or the place, and it’s probably too soon to ask, but I need to know if you think that, when this is over, we might have a future—”
She put her fingers against his mouth, stopping the question before he could finish it.
“I don’t know,” she said. “But I would like to find out.”
His eyes darkened with the heat of masculine need and then his mouth closed over hers.
The kiss scorched her senses. Hot. All-consuming. It was laced with the fire of desperation and the thrill of the unknown. The shock waves of passion that had arced between them that morning had been little more than a prelude to what was happening now.
With an urgent groan, Slater deepened the kiss and moved his hands to the front of her pajamas. She could feel the faint tremor in his fingers when he started to undo the buttons. The realization that he was shivering with need sent a rush of delight through her. It told her that, like her, he was unfamiliar with this level of intensity.
He got the top open. When his palms closed gently over her breasts it was her turn to shudder. She was so exquisitely sensitive now that she didn’t think she could stand a more intimate touch. Along with that realization came the knowledge that she did not have to hold back tonight. There was no need for control, not with this man.
She eased her hands up under the edge of his T-shirt. His body was a furnace. She savored the feel of muscle beneath warm skin.
He drew the pads of his thumbs across her nipples and then he slid his fingers down her ribs to the curve of her hips. He peeled off the pajama bottoms and let the garment fall to her ankles.
The next thing she knew he was lifting her out of the puddle of flannel and carrying her across the room. She braced her hands on his shoulders to steady herself.
He lowered her onto the tumbled bed. She knelt there and watched as he yanked off the T-shirt and undid the front of his trousers.
His briefs disappeared next. She was fascinated by the thick, rigid length of his erection. She watched as he sheathed himself in a condom. When he was ready she reached out and encircled him with her fingers. A shudder went through him. His aura ignited with the energy of his desire.
Her senses rose to the challenge. She had never been free to let herself go with a lover. She had learned the hard way that abandoning herself to the moment was a surefire way to kill a perfectly good relationship. The three categories of bedroom disasters whispered in the atmosphere. I need discipline. You’re a real control freak, aren’t you? And last, but the most chilling of all: Maybe you should see a therapist about your inability to have an orgasm.
“I told you this morning you are so damn hot you could probably set the house on fire,” Slater said. “I was wrong.”
“Were you?” she asked.
“We’ll be lucky if the whole damn town doesn’t go up in flames tonight.”
She laughed and tightened her grip on him. He gave a low growl and came down on top of her, flattening her onto her back and pinning her to the bed. He took her mouth again, insisting on a response. She dug her nails into the skin of his back.
He stroked one hand down the length of her to the inside of her thigh. She knew she was melting. When he clamped his hand around her core she closed her eyes and lifted her hips off the bed.
“So wet,” he said against her throat. “For me.”
She was beyond speech now so she twisted against his hand, demanding ever more intimate contact. He stroked her until she would have screamed had she been able to draw enough breath. The tension built rapidly deep inside her. She clutched at him, demanding more.
When he slid two fingers deep inside her she convulsed. The climax rolled through her in waves.
He guided himself into her before she had finished, sinking deep. It was too much. She was sure that she would shatter. A second wave rippled through her.
He surged into her again and again. The muscles of his back were granite hard. She wrapped her legs around him. His release slammed through him. She heard his muffled roar and realized that he had buried his face in the pillow beside her to quiet the sound.
They collapsed together into the sweat-dampened sheets.
Catalina opened her eyes and looked up at the shadowed ceiling. They had not set the house or the town on fire, but it had been a very close call.
CHAPTER 28
He lay quietly, aware of the satisfying warmth and softness of Catalina’s curves, the primal scents of lovemaking in the atmosphere and the utter relaxation that was flooding his body. It occurred to him that he could not remember the last time he had felt this Zen-like sense of inner balance. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that he had never experienced it, not even before the disaster six months earlier.
“Oomph.” Catalina’s voice was muffled.
“What?”
“You have to move,” Catalina said. “This is a very small bed and you are taking up most of it.”
He realized she was wriggling underneath him.
“Sorry,” he said.
Reluctantly he rolled off her.
… And slid off the edge of the narrow mattress. He landed on the floor.
“Slater.” Catalina sat up quickly, holding the sheet to her throat. “Are you okay?”
“Yes and no.” He got to his feet. “I am definitely awake. You’re right. That is a very narrow bed. Be back in a minute.”
He wandered into the tiny bathroom and spent a few minutes inside. When he returned to the bedroom he saw that Catalina was on her feet, pulling on her pajamas. A wave of regret welled up inside him.
“I take it you’re not into enjoying the postcoital glow thing?” he said.
She flashed him a smile that lit up the shadows. “Is that what you call it?”
“For want of a more eloquent phrase.”
“Just so you know, I am enjoying it.” She slid her feet into some fluffy slippers. “Enormously. How long does it last?”
“What?”
“It’s the first time I’ve experienced it,” she said. She headed for the door. “I’m not sure what to expect.”
She went out into the hall. He gathered up his clothes and went after her.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To your bed. It’s a double. Much bigger than mine.”
His mood abruptly reversed course. Once again he was in his new happy place, the territory that he had just discovered and could not wait to explore.
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” he said.
She glanced back at him over her shoulder, eyes sultry, mysterious and inviting.
“I just did,” she said.
She went into the darkened bedroom she had given him earlier, kicked off her slippers, removed her pajamas and burrowed under the sheet and the heavy quilt.
His night was getting better by the minute.
He dumped his clothes onto the nearest chair and climbed into bed. He pulled her into his arms so that she sprawled on top of him.
“What did you mean when you said you hadn’t ever experienced a postcoital glow?” he asked.
She folded her arms on top of his chest and watched him with her witchy eyes.
“I’ve always had a problem in this department,” she said. “No, that’s not right. Men usually have a problem with me when it comes to this kind of thing.”