Er, I used to be.
He reclaimed my attention by pressing a wet, slow kissto the hollow of my throat. My hands fell on his shoulders, clutching at hisshirt. I needed help balancing. Standing. Thinking.
Empowerment, I internally hissed at myself. Independent.Free. You are more than your feelings.
Swallowing a big dose of my pep talk, I dropped mycheek against his. He kissed the underside of my jaw and I took the opportunityto move my lips to his ear.
He stilled, freezing with the anticipation of what Iwas going to do next. Not wanting to disappoint him, in a vindictive way Imoved my lips over the shell of his ear, letting my tongue taste and give anddrive him crazy.
I pulled his earlobe between my teeth and had thepleasure of feeling his hands grip my waist, holding me against him with a helplessgrip. When his jaw muscle ticked against my chin, I took that as a sign.
I kept my voice breathy, soft, feminine. He had recentlygotten out of prison. I mean, it probably wouldn’t hurt to remind him that Iwas a woman and that he had been locked up for a very long time. “What are youdoing here, Sayer?”
He leaned his head back, keeping our bodies close. Hiseyes had darkened with want, his face was an open book. He was going to tellme.
This was it.
“I wanted to redeem myself,” he said.
My blood rushed so loudly I almost couldn’t hear him.“You do?”
He nodded slowly. My fingers curled into his shirt.
And then he leaned in and let his lips touch mine. Itwasn’t at all like yesterday. He wasn’t rough. He wasn’t punishing. This timehe was achingly sweet. Careful and gentle and considerate.
His tongue brushed over my bottom lip until I openedmy mouth for him, a Pavlovian response from years of life with him, of oldhabits and remembered need.
He kissed me like I was breakable and delicate andhis. He kissed me like he couldn’t stand being apart for a second longer. Hekissed me like I was his breath and he needed me to keep living.
Our mouths were a symphony, a chorus in unison. Wewere striking art and perfect sound and a homecoming of touch.
It didn’t take long before he’d coaxed me to kiss himback. My resolve and fury and years of hurt didn’t stand a chance in thereality of his mouth on mine. Leaning into him, I took more, deepening our kissuntil he made a growling sound in the back of his throat.
His teeth captured my lip with more pressure,reminding me of the veiled strength that hid behind this careful kiss. Wedeepened together, at the same moment, breaking in the same tangle of tonguesand taste. I pressed into him, letting all of my body feel all of his. My armswere around his neck, desperate to hold him close. I gasped a sound that was aninvitation for so much more. This wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I needed more.
I needed him.
Which was, of course, his plan. He pulled back,separating our mouths, and then scooted back so there was space between ourbodies too. His eyes were half-lidded, dark with the same need I felt coursingthrough my body. But his smile was all smug victory. “For yesterday.”
I was a gooey pile of lust and desire. His words madeno sense to me. “Huh?”
“Redemption,” he repeated. “I kissed you yesterday toprove a point. But I was angry and got carried away.”
My head was still wrapped up in the kiss we’d justhad. If I had any less willpower, I would be leaning forward right now with anopen mouth, trying to continue what he started. “You got carried away?”
His half smile was triumphant. Conquering. “I did.”
My anger returned and I took a few steps back, needingseparation. “So what was that?”
His smiled kicked up a notch and a wicked look flashedin his eyes. “Five years without sex, Caro. That’s what it was.”
“Are you punishing me?”
He leaned forward, as casual and relaxed as I had everseen him since he’d shown up in Frisco. “I wouldn’t really call that apunishment. You seemed pretty into it.”
“Are you serious?”
He jumped off the desk and prowled toward me. I tookquick steps back, afraid he was going to punish me again. But more afraid Iwasn’t going to be able to tell him to stop.
