“You could have been hit.”
She gives a tired laugh. “But I wasn’t, and you know, I wasn’t afraid this time. If something happened to Goose or Jameson and I’d done nothing? I’d never forgive myself.”
“And I’d never forgive myself if I was the second man to cause you to get struck by lightning.”
“You’re worth another strike.”
That hits me square in the chest. I smile anyway, because if I let it show what she just did to me, I’ll lose it.
“Well, I’d say you really earned your present, then,” I say, getting up and going to the duffle I dropped at the door.
She perks up, her head tilting to the side. “Present?”
I hand her a large box wrapped in pink paper that sparkles like fine jewels. She stares at me, not even trying to open it yet.
“What is this?”
“Open it.” I insist.
She unwraps it, then grins when she sees it’s the newest scent from her favorite perfume designer.
“Duke, this—” She claws her way through the box and opens the ornate bottle, closing her eyes as she smells it.
“Not sure if you have this one. It’s the newest scent.”
Her eyes are misty now when she looks at me. “You remembered.”
“There’s not much about you I can forget.”
“I love …” she pauses. She wants to say something more, but she freezes. I can tell the wheels of her mind are churning, and my pulse starts to hum.
“Roxanne?”
“Uh.” She shakes her head. “I love this. Thank you.”
She sets the bottle down, leans in, and kisses me. It’s gentle and sweet, but it sets off something in me that I know I can’t turn off now.
When she releases me, I gulp, not able to find my words. “That’s it.”
“What is?”
I stand and hold out my arms. “Come with me.”
Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t hesitate. She slips her arms around my neck, and I scoop her up.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To my room.”
Her breath hitches, and that sound sets me on fire. My grip tightens under her thighs and she shifts in my arms as I cross the threshold of the bedroom, her fingers lightly brushing the back of my neck. That simple touch is the kind of gentle, absentminded affection that saysyou’re mine. I didn’t realize how much I needed that until right now.
I set her down gently when we get to my bedroom door. Jameson tries to rush in, but I stop him, promising to let him in later, though it might be days later when I finish doing everything I want to with Roxanne.
We kiss like we’ve been waiting a lifetime. It’s soft and tender at first and then more urgent. All the turbulence of the last twenty-four hours—the missed calls, the flight delays, and then the image of her out in the storm—is gone.
There’s only this. Her mouth, warm and willing. The lingering scent of jasmine on her throat. Her tongue parting mylips, and her breath mingling with mine. The rush of blood in my ears is no match for the storm that has passed outside.
I’m instantly hard as need rocks my body and from the soft whimper that escapes her as I trail soft kisses down her neck. Her hands tug at the hem of my shirt, but I still have her clothing to deal with—thin cotton pajama top and pants clinging to her warm skin. I let my hands drift to the waistband, raising a brow. “May I?”
