Savannah’s jaw dropped. Then she closed her mouth, clamping her lips together as she looked from the flowers to Jared’s face and back. She didn’t have to think long to realize how he’d known; he’d seen her driver’s license. But the fact that after working all night, he was personally running flowers to her was more touching than she could believe. It had been years since she had woken up to a birthday wish.
He nudged the flowers closer. She closed both hands around the cellophane stem and brought them to her heart. “My mom made a big thing about birthdays. All that stopped when she died. I could never figure out whether my dad did it on purpose so he wouldn’t have to remember her, whether he didn’t feel he could match what she did so he didn’t try, or whether he just didn’t care. Susan and I always try to do something together, but I think it’s more my need than hers.” She looked down at the flowers again. When her eyes returned to Jared’s, they were moist. “Thank you,” she whispered. On impulse, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him hard.
Threading his fingers through her hair, Jared turned her face up. Her expression said that the excitement wasn’t his alone. He didn’t need to hear more. Lowering his head, he captured her mouth in a kiss that was as uncompromising as the desire they shared.
Savannah had never been touched by a more powerful fire. As though she were kindling, dried and seasoned by months of lying in wait, she burst into flame. When Jared stroked her mouth, she caressed his back. When he sucked on her lip, she scraped his lightly with her teeth. When he explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue, hers sidled against it. He was fierce in his hunger, but gentle. If she’d made the slightest sound of protest, he would have stopped.
But she didn’t want him to stop. For too long she had dreamed of being loved this way. So many nights she’d lain awake, alone and lonely in the heart of the night, lost in fantasy. She half thought she was fantasizing now, because what she felt was so good. The insecurity that had plagued her was forgotten, crowded out by the wealth of sensation he created with only the movement of his mouth.
The gentleness of his hands as they held her head, the strength of his body as he bent to her, excited her. The brush of a night’s growth of beard, the chill of the morning’s air on his cheek and the scent of heated male skin beneath his clothes intrigued her. She remembered the rasp of his voice in the night and the darkening of gray flecks in his blue eyes, and she felt his arousal pressing against her.
She strained closer. The movement brought a low groan from deep in Jared’s chest. Within seconds, he’d drawn back and was dazedly searching her face. Then he was kissing her eyes, her nose, her cheekbones, her chin, until, with a searing hiss, his lips bonded to hers once more.
Somehow he’d known it would be this way, known that once he kissed Savannah there would be no holding back. He might have been frightened by the strength of what he felt if he’d been capable of thought, but sensation overrode thought. There was nothing but the heat of the moment, burning from one touchpoint to the next.
Then something contradicted that heat, a fine trembling in Savannah’s body, a reminder of where they were, what they wore, and the early morning chill that surrounded them.
“Let me in?” he asked against her mouth.
Taking his arm, she drew him into the house. The instant the door was closed, their lips met again. They were both breathing heavily, pausing to gasp before returning for another kiss, another touch. The flowers Jared had brought had become an extension of Savannah’s hand, held tightly against his back but forgotten amid the flames.
When he drew back this time, he pressed his temple to hers and dropped his gaze. His large hands stroked her neck, then slid inward, parting her robe to reveal the prim white nightshirt beneath. He went at the buttons one by one, his fingers unsteady in the effort to take care. His breath came in uneven sighs that echoed Savannah’s own.
When he had released three buttons, he spread the material to the side and bared her breasts. For several seconds, he didn’t move. His hands seemed intimidated by the tender ivory flesh he had uncovered. Then, with a tentative, reverent touch, he slid his fingers around her soft outer curves.
She was beautiful, he thought, not voluptuous, but firmly rounded like a delicately sculpted figurine—only she was alive, swelling at his touch.
His hands grew bolder, caressing her flesh. He traced the intricacies of her shape, running a thumb over each rosy nipple until it hardened. He heard the quickening of her breath; heard her gasp. The sound was as great a turn-on as her free hand desperately clutching his sweatshirt near his waist.
The fire spread. Hastily, he pushed aside her robe and freed the last of the nightshirt’s buttons. When he looked at her then she was a breathtaking expanse of soft flesh with only a wisp of lace at her hips.
He breathed her name in a rough whisper, and while he took her mouth, his hands slid down her body. He felt the texture of lace, but beneath the lace was the heat he sought. He palmed it, stroked it, sent his fingers around and through it.
Savannah cried out. She was trembling again, but this time not from a chill. Her body was begging him for release.
Slipping one arm beneath her knees and another around her back, Jared lifted her and started up the stairs. His kiss was as fluid as his step. It flexed with the movement, yet maintained a near-steady contact until he reached her bedroom.
Very gently, he set her down on the bed. Her robe and nightgown fell open. He made no attempt to take her arms from their sleeves; instead he simply stripped her of the lace panties. Within seconds he had whipped his sweatshirt over his head and kicked off his sneakers and shorts. Naked, he came down to her.
The first touch of their bare bodies was electric. In the sizzling wake of that touch, he found his place between her open thighs and thrust upward. Savannah arched off the sheet with a choked cry, but when he would have withdrawn, she clamped her legs around his hips and held him tight where he was.
She squeezed her eyes shut. The focus of her being was the part of her that felt so full. Sensations of newness became sensations of excitement that, in turn, became full-blown desire. Her legs relaxed their grip to allow him movement.
His first strokes were slow and deliberate, a searing withdrawal and reentrance that made her hunger for more. Driven by a hunger of his own, he moved ever faster, ever deeper until he heard her catch in a sudden breath and go utterly still, then release that breath in a spate of ragged pants. The sound was all it took—that and a final intense thrust, to send him into a climax that shook his large frame from head to toe.
The spasms seemed endless. When he was totally spent, he lowered himself to her side, taking her over with him.
For several minutes, as he lay in the afterglow with his eyes closed, Savannah watched him. Her body still tingled, still felt his possession, but the mind-block that had seized her in the heat of passion had cleared. The old fears took shape.
Finally, he opened his eyes. When he saw the way she was looking at him, he brought gentle fingers to her face. “What is it?” He caressed the tiny crease between her eyes with his thumb.
“Was it okay?” she whispered.
Astonished, he waited a minute before he asked, “Are you kidding?”
She shook her head on the pillow.
He shaped the curve of her ear. “It was incredible. Couldn’t you feel it?”
