get enough.
And his hand . . .
God, his hand was on her breast. And it felt so good. His thumb pressed against her nipple, flicking it through the fabric of her dress, and she whimpered.
He lifted his head, breathing like he’d run a marathon. His eyes burned. “I wanted you then, Emma,” he gritted. “Every damn day. God help me, I want you now.” His lips dropped to her throat. Moved lower to her breast. Then his mouth closed over her breast and she moaned. Clasped his head in her shaking hands and held him close while he ravaged, sucking until she thought she’d come, right there on the beach.
She tried to speak, but no words would come. She, a woman who made her living speaking, could not form a single syllable.
Emma, stop this. Get a hold of yourself.
She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to get a hold of herself more than she’d ever not wanted to do anything in her life. But because she didn’t, she forced herself to speak. “Christopher, wait. Please.” She tugged at his head. “Stop.”
He went stiff, then still. Lifted his head and met her eyes. “I don’t want to apologize,” he said, his voice hoarse and rough, sending another shiver of electric desire through her body. She was cold without him pressed against her. She wanted to be warm again. She wanted him.
“I don’t want you to apologize. I just think I’m not quite ready for this.”
He swallowed hard. “Your body thinks otherwise.”
“My body hasn’t had sex in a year,” she shot back, then closed her eyes on a soft groan. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” He didn’t move and she finally opened her eyes to see him staring down at her, not one whit of his intensity abated.
“Mine hasn’t had any in three,” he said quietly. “But that has nothing to do with this. I’ve always wanted you, Emma. Always. And now, you walk back into my life and I have to believe it’s for a reason. I’ve waited for you for more than seventeen years. I can wait a little longer. But be advised, Emma. I will have you.” She shuddered violently, again speechless under his gaze, under the mesmerizing timbre of his voice. “I will have you and your body will know you’re mine.” Her hips lifted of their own volition and he smiled, a tiny little smile of male triumph that did nothing to cool her down. “Your body already knows it. I can wait for your heart to catch up.”
She was afraid her heart wasn’t too far behind. Still she cleared her throat. “You . . . you could be right. You probably are right.”
He lifted a brow.
“Okay, Christopher, you’re right,” she said with no small irritation. “But for now . . . I want to slow it down. When and if we do . . .”
“Make love,” he purred and her insides felt like they were turning inside out.
“When and if—”
“When, Emma. Not if.”
She sighed. “Christopher.” Then he grinned and made her laugh before she sobered again. “
If
we make love I want it to be for the right reason,” she said softly. “Because it’s the right time, not because we’re two people trying to recapture the past.”
“Is that what you think?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. But regardless, Christopher, to risk sounding trite, I’m not that kind of girl.”
He sat up at that and pulled her so she sat next to him. “I know you’re not. You never were. That’s one of the things I loved about you then, Emma.” He shoved his fingers through his short hair. “I should really apologize. But I still don’t want to.”
“Then don’t. I feel . . . incredibly flattered.”
“You should,” he said grumpily. “I’ve waited for you more than half my life.”
“You didn’t wait,” she pointed out. “You got married, too.”
A frown shadowed his eyes. “Not well.”
“I’m sorry, Christopher. I wish your marriage could have been like mine.”
He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “It takes two to tango. I made mistakes, too. I worked a lot early
And his hand . . .
God, his hand was on her breast. And it felt so good. His thumb pressed against her nipple, flicking it through the fabric of her dress, and she whimpered.
He lifted his head, breathing like he’d run a marathon. His eyes burned. “I wanted you then, Emma,” he gritted. “Every damn day. God help me, I want you now.” His lips dropped to her throat. Moved lower to her breast. Then his mouth closed over her breast and she moaned. Clasped his head in her shaking hands and held him close while he ravaged, sucking until she thought she’d come, right there on the beach.
She tried to speak, but no words would come. She, a woman who made her living speaking, could not form a single syllable.
Emma, stop this. Get a hold of yourself.
She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to get a hold of herself more than she’d ever not wanted to do anything in her life. But because she didn’t, she forced herself to speak. “Christopher, wait. Please.” She tugged at his head. “Stop.”
He went stiff, then still. Lifted his head and met her eyes. “I don’t want to apologize,” he said, his voice hoarse and rough, sending another shiver of electric desire through her body. She was cold without him pressed against her. She wanted to be warm again. She wanted him.
“I don’t want you to apologize. I just think I’m not quite ready for this.”
He swallowed hard. “Your body thinks otherwise.”
“My body hasn’t had sex in a year,” she shot back, then closed her eyes on a soft groan. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” He didn’t move and she finally opened her eyes to see him staring down at her, not one whit of his intensity abated.
“Mine hasn’t had any in three,” he said quietly. “But that has nothing to do with this. I’ve always wanted you, Emma. Always. And now, you walk back into my life and I have to believe it’s for a reason. I’ve waited for you for more than seventeen years. I can wait a little longer. But be advised, Emma. I will have you.” She shuddered violently, again speechless under his gaze, under the mesmerizing timbre of his voice. “I will have you and your body will know you’re mine.” Her hips lifted of their own volition and he smiled, a tiny little smile of male triumph that did nothing to cool her down. “Your body already knows it. I can wait for your heart to catch up.”
She was afraid her heart wasn’t too far behind. Still she cleared her throat. “You . . . you could be right. You probably are right.”
He lifted a brow.
“Okay, Christopher, you’re right,” she said with no small irritation. “But for now . . . I want to slow it down. When and if we do . . .”
“Make love,” he purred and her insides felt like they were turning inside out.
“When and if—”
“When, Emma. Not if.”
She sighed. “Christopher.” Then he grinned and made her laugh before she sobered again. “
If
we make love I want it to be for the right reason,” she said softly. “Because it’s the right time, not because we’re two people trying to recapture the past.”
“Is that what you think?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. But regardless, Christopher, to risk sounding trite, I’m not that kind of girl.”
He sat up at that and pulled her so she sat next to him. “I know you’re not. You never were. That’s one of the things I loved about you then, Emma.” He shoved his fingers through his short hair. “I should really apologize. But I still don’t want to.”
“Then don’t. I feel . . . incredibly flattered.”
“You should,” he said grumpily. “I’ve waited for you more than half my life.”
“You didn’t wait,” she pointed out. “You got married, too.”
A frown shadowed his eyes. “Not well.”
“I’m sorry, Christopher. I wish your marriage could have been like mine.”
He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “It takes two to tango. I made mistakes, too. I worked a lot early
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