Jonas placed his arm around her shoulder, and Stephanie leaned her head back against the solid cushion of his chest. Gently, he kissed the top of her head.
Stephanie turned so that her lips touched his throat where his shirt opened. His skin was warm, and she both felt and heard his answering sigh. His large hand was splayed against the back of her head, and he directed her mouth to his. Stephanie didn’t need any more encouragement, and their mouths met in a gentle brushing of lips. She moved away from the helm and slipped her arms around his neck. He kissed her again, longer this time, much longer, but still he was infinitely gentle, as though he feared hurting her. Jonas released her when the sails began to flap in the wind, but he did it with such reluctance that Stephanie’s heart sang.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, more for something to do than from any desire for lunch.
“Yes,” Jonas admitted hoarsely, but when she went toward the wicker picnic basket, Jonas’s hand caught hers, delaying her.
Stephanie raised questioning eyes to his. “Jonas?” In a heartbeat, he gently pulled her back to him, his hand slipping around her waist. “It isn’t food that tempts me.” He kissed her again, his mouth moving on hers with an urgency as old as mankind itself. Stephanie threaded her fingers through his hair and held his head fast as his tongue brushed against hers until she was so weak that she slumped against him.
“Jonas,” she breathed as his hand slid up the front of her shirt to cup her breasts. They swelled in his hands, throbbing, aching, begging for his touch. With limitless patience, he raised her blouse, freeing her breasts of the confining lace. Her breath caught in her throat as his lips sought her nipple. She could feel the heat of his mouth, closing snugly around the pink crest of her breast. He tasted it and kissed it until Stephanie tossed back her head to better capture the wild sensation that erupted within her. When he’d finished with one breast, he moved to the other, gently rolling the beaded nipple with his tongue. Had Stephanie had the power to draw in a breath, she would have gasped and cried out at the pleasure he was giving her. Her fingers dug deeper into his hair, and moisture filled her eyes. Nothing she had ever experienced with a man had been this beautiful. Nothing had ever been so intimate. She felt as if her breasts were melting like spun sugar against his tongue. A sound must have slipped from her throat, because Jonas paused and slowly raised his head.
Almost immediately he noticed the tears brimming in her eyes. “Did I hurt you?”
She quickly shook her head. “No, oh no, you couldn’t.”
He brought her down so that they were sitting side by side. His arms came around her, and he fused his mouth to hers. Again and again he kissed her, tasting, nipping at her lower lip until Stephanie thought she would go mad with wanting him. Her hand crept up his hard chest and closed around the folds of his collar. The kiss was long and thorough. This day with Jonas was the sweetest she had ever known.
With his arms wrapped securely around her shoulders, Stephanie swayed with the gentle rocking of the boat, lulled by the peace that surrounded them. Jonas had somehow lowered the sails without her even knowing it. He continued to hold her, staring out over the rolling water. Not for the first time, Stephanie noted that his eyes were incredibly blue. As though sensing her scrutiny, Jonas gazed down at her. For a long moment they stared at each other, lost in the world that had been created just for them and for this moment.
Some time later, Jonas reached for the picnic basket. He brought out a plump red strawberry, plucked the stem from the top of the red fruit, and fed it to Stephanie. She bit into the pulp, and a thin line of juice ran down her chin. As she moved to wipe it away, Jonas’s hand stopped hers. He bent his index finger, and with his knuckle rubbed the red juice aside. Then, very slowly, as though he couldn’t resist, he lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips met and clung. His grip tightened as his tongue sought and found hers. When he lifted his mouth from hers, he smiled gently. The moisture pooled in her eyes, and a tear slipped from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek.
A puzzled frown knit Jonas’s brow. “You’re crying.”
“I know.”
“I hurt you?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
She turned her head into his shoulder, convinced he would laugh once he knew.
“Stephanie?”
“It was so beautiful. I always cry when I’m this happy.” Feeling foolish, she rubbed her hands against her eyes. “It’s a family curse. My mother weeps every Christmas.”
Jonas reached for the wine, opened it, and poured them each a glass.
“Alcohol won’t help,” she said, sniffling, but she didn’t refuse the glass Jonas offered her.
“Are there any other family curses I should know about?”
“I have a bit of a temper.”