He swept her up into his arms. “Come on. There’s no way I’m taking you against the door.”
He’d carried her like this so many times before. Good memories flooded back to her as he swept her up the stairs, and she curved a hand around his strong, defined jaw. He’d shaved again for her, she could tell. So thoughtful.
When they reached her bedroom, he closed the door behind them. Touchdown was never allowed in this sanctuary of theirs. He set her down on the bed and looked his fill. She was more than ready, so she laid back and tugged off her underwear. His breath hissed out as she anchored herself with her elbows on the bed.
“You are still so beautiful you steal my breath away.”
She let her gaze travel over him—his sculpted chest, the worn jeans that hung loosely on his hips.
“And your body is still the most ridiculous work of art I have ever seen.”
His mouth tipped up at the corners. How many times had she called his body ridiculous in that playful tone, making him smile? Not enough and not for what seemed like eons.
When his mouth lowered to kiss her stomach, she opened her legs. One of his hands curved behind her back as he held her to him, taking his sweet time, savoring every inch of skin he touched as he kissed his way up her body.
“I need you,” she whispered as her aching breasts rubbed against his bare chest.
His mouth finally found hers, and he took the kiss deeper, wetter, wilder than any they had shared since reuniting. Her belly tightened with the dark strands of desire. She ran her nails gently down his back, knowing how much he loved it.
He groaned, the husky timbre reverberating throughout his chest. “Oh, Nat, Nat…I missed you so much.”
He lit a trail of fire across the length of her neck, tracing her sensitive skin with his tongue, his soft lips, and the delicate nip of his teeth. It was enough to warm her skin and make her body clench with need, but there was also a familiar tenderness.
Her skin and bones began to dissolve like a cloud in direct sunlight. With Blake she’d learned the scary truth that bodies weren’t boundaries. No, with him, making love had always led to a oneness, a merging undefined by time and space. Her heart was preparing to leave its numb sanctuary, to welcome him again to see the secret, most guarded parts of herself.
A wave of primal terror swept through her chest, and she struggled for air. Would she have to talk about why she left him? Would she have to talk about Kim after they made love? Surely he would broach those forbidden subjects.
“Let’s move along,” she told him, reaching for the waistband of his jeans and unzipping them.
The hard length of him told her he was more than ready, and she had her hand wrapped around him in seconds.
His breath hissed out. “God, your hands are cold.” He pressed his forehead to hers as she gave him the long strokes she knew made him wild. “Oh, God, Nat,” he whispered, his voice broken now. “Stop.”
She froze, wondering what she’d done wrong. He’d always liked this before.
He took her hand away and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. “It’s not that I don’t love it…it’s just…been so long.”
With that, her heart ventured forth again, edging closer to his warmth. She’d wondered how many other women there had been in their time apart. She hadn’t been able to stop the jealousy from creeping into her mind when she couldn’t sleep.
“Has it?” she whispered.
His brown eyes burned into hers. “Yes.”
It was one simple word, yet it was somehow also an affirmation of his feelings for her. Her lips wobbled with emotion.
“You don’t have to wait.” She transferred her touch to his chest and kissed him, feeling out of control.
His laugh was more like an agonized sputter as he drew away from her. “If you think I’m going for speed after all this time, you’re crazy.”
She was afraid she was crazy…or that letting herself feel so much again, after spending so long living each day to get through it, would make her that way. “I want to touch you.”
She pushed him onto his back, or rather he let her, and tugged his jeans and briefs down his legs. Her mouth went dry, seeing all that bare skin, the utterly perfect musculature of a professional athlete. She ran her hands up the hard planes of his calves, the undersides of his knees. He flinched, and she smiled, knowing how ticklish he was there. But she had another target in mind. She curled her hands around his massive thighs, tracing the defined muscles straight to the heart of him.
“No, seriously,” he rasped. “I can’t take having your hands on me this time even if they aren’t freezing cold now.”