In the distance, she heard whistling sounds and a series of loud pops. She pointed skyward, where a streak of red shot high and bloomed into a giant flower of light. “The fireworks have started.”
“You’d better believe it.” His lips met hers. She opened for him, tasting him, her mind a hot, eager whirl of joy and desire.
His big hands cradling her bottom, he carried her inside, not once breaking their kiss as he crossed the great room, finally letting her slide to her feet when he reached the kitchen. She dropped her purse on the counter chair and grinned up at him.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” He bent to take her mouth again.
It was another one of those kisses, the endless kind. But he didn’t pull her close, and she somehow kept herself from swaying into him. Their bodies a few inches apart, their mouths fused together, they kissed for the longest time.
When he lifted his head, she opened her eyes and gazed up at him, feeling dazed and maybe a little bit delirious.
Then something batted against her boot. She looked down. A skinny, white-spotted brown dog stared up at her. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”
“Meet Slim. He’s a German shorthair—mostly, anyway. Slim’s about a third Weimaraner.”
She bent to take Slim’s long face between her hands. “Hey, buddy.” Slim gazed at her through soulful brown eyes and gave a low, happy whine. His tail slapped the floor as she scratched under his chin and around the back of his ears. “Where were you last New Year’s Eve?”
“At the vet’s, as I recall. Little run-in with a coyote. Slim won the match, but the coyote got in a lick or two.”
She gave Slim a last scratch. Jameson put down a hand, and she took it. A sweet shiver coursed through her as she rose. “I can’t believe I’m really here again.”
He touched her hair—a careful touch, his palm resting lightly against the curve of her skull. “You want something to drink? A snack, maybe?”
She reached up and brushed her fingers along the sculpted line of his jaw, enjoying the feel of his short beard against her fingertips. “Just you.”
He caught her hand. Pausing only to give Slim the command to stay, he led her down the short hall to his room—and kicked the door shut behind him, rousing a memory of that night last winter, of the sheer glory of it. He’d kicked the door shut that night, too.
And she’d promised herself that the wonder she’d shared with him would never happen again. Some promises, apparently, just begged to be broken.
They stood by the turned-back bed in the light of a single lamp. He unbuttoned her shirt and took it away, dropping it on the bedside chair. Quickly, he got rid of the rest of her clothes—or most of them, anyway.
He pushed her down to sit on the side of the bed, knelt at her feet and removed her boots and her socks. Taking her hand, pulling her upright again, he took down her jeans and her panties, spinning them on a finger before tossing them on the bedside chair.
“Lie down,” he commanded.
Without a stitch on, she stretched out on the cool sheet. “Your turn.”
Took him about a minute and a half. Boy, did he look good naked. Since last New Year’s, her memories of him without his clothes had filled her fantasies and carried her to her happy place a whole bunch of times. But her memories had nothing on the reality of him—so beautifully manly, everything broad and hard and cut.
As he came down to her, she reached up and put her hand flat against his chest. He felt so good—the silky heat of his flesh and beneath that, the strong, steady beat of his heart.
“I missed you,” he whispered, as his mouth came down to capture hers.
He settled his body over hers, and her need became frantic—to get her hands all over him, to kiss him long and deep and thoroughly, to give herself up to each thrilling sensation.
She needed to get her hands all over him, and he seemed equally eager to touch her everywhere. They laughed together, rolling from one side of the big bed to the other, hands stroking, grabbing, holding, her long hair tangling all around them.
He cupped her full breast in a big hand, positioning it for his mouth, and then he claimed it, sucking, nibbling—biting, too. She moaned and gathered him tight against her as his other hand strayed down. Outside, far in the distance, she heard fireworks exploding.
“So wet, so ready...” He lifted his head from her breast and took her mouth again.
“Condom,” she commanded against his parted lips. “More foreplay later. Right now, I can’t wait.”
He didn’t hesitate. Sticking out a muscular arm, he caught the knob of the bedside drawer and pulled it open. She helped, taking the pouch from his hand, quickly peeling it open, then pushing him onto his back and straddling him.
“You’re so beautiful.” He stared up at her, eyes glittering, face intent, his fine mouth slightly parted, big chest expanding with each ragged breath. “Like that painting of Venus by that Italian guy.”
“Botticelli?”
