“I…I want you, too,” she said softly.
In fact, she’d spoken so softly he wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard what he wanted, or what she’d actually meant.
“Erin—”
“I want you, Sam,” she said, more firmly this time. “But I don’t know what you want out of this, or from me.”
He felt his heart squeeze. He knew exactly what she meant. They were each so raw with emotion in their own ways.
“I don’t know either,” honesty forced him to admit. “But I do know that I’ve felt alone and empty for too long. I think you know what I mean, how it feels.” He paused and felt his pulse skip a beat when she nodded slowly, her eyes locked with his. “I think we can make that emptiness go away, for a while, together. We deserve that, don’t we?”
He watched as she pressed her lips together, as if weighing her options before giving him the answer his body begged for.
“And in the morning?” she asked. “What then?”
“I won’t think any less of you, Erin. I can promise you that. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since we kissed last week. I know you felt something then, just as I did. You even said it was what was right for us at the time. And so is this.”
He took one of her hands in his and laid it flat against his chest. Could she feel his heart leaping about in there as he did? Could she feel that she did this to him? Turned him from a man intent on escaping from the world, an analytical software designer and developer, into someone who was now ruled by baser instinctive needs and emotions?
Her fingers curled beneath his, her grip tightening on his shirt. She was shaking in earnest now. Had he pushed her too far? Destroyed the delectable closeness they’d only just begun to explore?
“Kiss me again,” she whispered. “Make the emptiness go away.”
Eight
Erin felt as if she’d just stepped off a precipice, as if she was falling, falling with no idea of how hard the jolt might be when she reached the bottom. But then Sam’s lips closed on hers and she could only hope that with him her landing would be safe, secure. She wrapped her arms about his neck and let her body cleave to the length of his.
Everything about him felt good, right. So right she wanted to drop to the carpet right here, right now, with him in her arms and explore in depth just how good it was. But she didn’t want their first time to be so elemental. Not while she still held on to at least one rational thought in her head. Instead, she broke their kiss, closing her eyes momentarily at the tiny sensation of loss that swirled through her at the lack of contact, Then, taking his hand, she led him to her bedroom.
She’d turned the sheets down earlier and had left only a stained-glass lamp turned on at her bedside. The muted jewel-like colors cast a gentle, enticing glow about the room.
She closed the door behind them, cocooning them in a private space in time. Somewhere they could explore the intensity of the attraction between them—the sheer need that arose every time they’d been together. A need they could plunder and delight in, and which could chase away the shadows that lingered in their hearts.
Erin reached for Sam’s shirt, tugging it free of his jeans and forcing her shaking fingers to painstakingly undo each button from top to bottom. Inch by inch she revealed the smooth expanse of his chest, the dark nipp**les that were as rigid as her own, his taut belly and the fine smattering of hair that arrowed behind the waistband of his jeans. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, leaving his upper torso bare to her gaze. She looked her fill, tracing the lines of his physique with fingers that became more sure of their touch the lower they traveled.
He gasped as she brushed her hand over the erection trapped behind his zipper. She smiled a little, enjoying the pure feminine knowledge that he was this way for her, that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. The anticipation was both a delight and a torment. They would be wonderful together, she knew that as instinctively as she knew the sun would rise each day. But just how wonderful? Would they blaze like a fiery comet through the night sky, or would they simmer and burn like a slow-growing flame?
Her hands fumbled at his belt, and then at his zipper, carefully releasing the pressure against his arousal and easing his jeans down his long legs. In the soft lighting she caught a glimpse of a long scar running the length of Sam’s thigh and she felt a moment’s sorrow for the injury that had caused such a permanent reminder. But she didn’t linger long over the thought, instead rising once again, skimming her hands up the outside of his legs and then guiding them in toward the straining fabric of his boxer briefs. She grazed her nails over the knitted cotton, relishing the groan he emitted. His hands shot to her arms, stilling her actions.