His hand crept towards her shoulder, and then her neck, releasing a wave ofspine-tingling desire within her. ‘I’d like to kiss that delectable mouth of yours,’ he said.
She grimaced. ‘Delectable?’
He smiled. ‘Okay, way too clichéd. How about irresistible?’
‘As bad,’ she said. ‘Definitely as bad.’ Then putting a finger to his lips, she pressed ever so slightly against his teeth. His eyes blazed, and she felt a tremor run through him at her touch. ‘How about you stop talking for two seconds?’ she murmured.
‘Why, what will you—’
She silenced him by removing her finger and kissing him lightly on the mouth. His lips were warm and soft, and tasted of Rémy Martin. She let her lips linger against his, until he tilted his head away from her. For a moment he gazed intently into her eyes, then he kissed her deeply, his hands firmly around her shoulders pulling her closer. Still kissing him, she somehow managed to slip her legs out from under her and he tilted her back so her head was resting on the arm of the sofa, his body on top of hers. It felt good to feel the weight of him against her. His mouth moved slowly from her lips to her throat, and just as he reached the hollow above her collarbone, she let out a gasp of pleasure.
‘Have I found your weak spot, MrsDevereux-Temple?’ he said, teasingly. Before she could reply, he had kissed her in the same place again and elicited another sigh from her. In turn she slid her hands to his chest and began unbuttoning his shirt. She had three buttons undone when he suddenly raised himself off from her.
‘I think we need to stop,’ he murmured.
His words were like the pricking of a balloon and at once she felt deflated and embarrassed. ‘If you say so,’ she said, not without a tinge of annoyance. Was this some kind of game for him?
‘No,’ he said, ‘you don’t understand. I don’t want this. I mean, not like this.’
Confused, she said, ‘You’re right, I don’t understand.’
‘I don’t want it to be a momentary loss of control. I don’t want you to wake in the morning and think, “What the hell was that all about?” Or worse, think that I took what I could on a spur of the moment thing.’
‘I assure you I can think for myself.’
He sat up. ‘Now you’re cross with me.’
She sat up beside him. ‘Maybe I am. Because I really don’t understand you, Red. Most men would have simply—’
‘That’s just my point,’ he cut in. ‘I don’t want you to think of me in that way. Oh sure, I’ve behaved like that a hundred times. Hell, maybe more! But this time I want it to be different. Is that asking too much?’
His pained expression touched her, and taking hold of his hands, all her annoyance gone, she said, ‘For it to be different, Red, we need to know each other a lot better.’
‘That’s what scares me.’
‘Why?’
‘It would mean I would have to be completely honest with you.’
‘Would that be so awful?’
‘There are things I’ve done that would shock you. Perhaps even make you hate me.’
‘Have you thought that maybe I’ve done things that would shock you?’
He shook his head. ‘I doubt what you’ve done comes close.’
‘Then tell me. Tell me everything. Even if we have to be up all night.’
ChapterSixty-Four
France
December 1943
Red
In early November of 1943 I was shipped over to England and stationed at what had been RAF Leiston, but now designated Station 373 (LI) after it was allocated to the Eighth Air Force of the United States Army Air Forces. After a brief settling in period, our missions began. I named myP-51 Mustang fighter airplane ‘Patsy’ after my sister, knowing that she’d get a kick out of it.
