Thrill Me (One Night with Sole Regret 9)

She’d never bargained for this. She wasn’t ready to feel for another man. It was much too soon; she was still trying to sort herself out. No matter how wonderful he was, she didn’t want to get tangled up in a relationship just yet.

“Caitlyn,” he whispered, his infectious rhythm rocking them together in perfect harmony.

She opened her eyes and though his face was obscured by shadows, she could feel the intensity of his emotions as he held her gaze. In the moonlight, could he read the feelings expressed on her face?

“I want to say it,” he whispered, his lips seeking hers for a tender kiss. “I want to say it.”

Her heart slammed into her ribs. If he meant what she thought he meant, she didn’t want to hear it. It was too soon for him to love her. “Not yet,” she said. “Wait for me to catch up with you.”

He lowered his body against hers and buried his face in her neck, never once losing the sensual rhythm his body played into hers. “I won’t say it,” he murmured, “but you can’t stop me from feeling it.”

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. He couldn’t stop her from feeling it either. In fact, her unwanted feelings of affection for him were all his fault. He absolutely should not be her every dream come true. How was she supposed to resist him and his damned tender heart?

When his focus shifted from connecting with her to seeking release, she clung to his shoulders and let him take her body to the dizzying heights of the stars above. After they drifted back down to their soft bed of pillows and she was wrapped securely in his arms, she realized that for the first time in her life, an orgasm hadn’t been the best part of sex. Nor had the pleasure or the raw remembrance of his body locked in hers. The best part had been connecting with this man—this virtual stranger—on a level far deeper than the physical. She couldn’t remember ever feeling that with Charles. They’d had sex, and it had connected them on a physical level. They’d often connected on a mental level and had stimulating conversations. But their emotional connection had never been deep. Not like this. She’d always assumed that she was the type of woman who could only form strong emotional attachments with her future children—it was why she’d so wanted a baby and had never gotten over Charles’s refusal to meet that need. Caitlyn wasn’t sure if she should be glad to have found this uncommon connection with Owen or be terrified out of her mind.

Too soon, she reminded herself as she snuggled closer against his sleeping body, seeking not only warmth but comfort and that scary as hell connection he’d shared with her. Too soon, she reminded herself one last time before she drifted to sleep.

Chapter Twelve

Owen rubbed a hand over Caitlyn’s chilled arm and watched the sun rise over the choppy horizon of the bay. Gradually pink and orange gave way to a pale blue sky. Perhaps he should wake her to witness the splendor surrounding them, but Owen needed a moment to collect his thoughts. Last night something had changed between them. He’d seen it in her moonlight-kissed face when he’d made love to her. Owen tried not to let himself get too excited about potential prospects. His heart had been broken so many times in the past, he knew better than to rush this—whatever this was becoming. In the past he’d put himself out there over and over again. Sometimes his efforts would be rewarded with the love he craved, but it never lasted. He got too intense too fast, and the sensible women he always fell for frightened easily. So even though his heart was already all-in, he was going to follow Caitlyn’s advice and wait until she caught up with him before he told her how he felt. But could she ever really catch up with him? He wasn’t sure it was possible.

Caitlyn took a deep breath when the sun rose high enough to bathe her face in golden brilliance. She shivered and snuggled closer to his warmth. He reached for the edge of the sheet and pulled it around her bare back.

“Am I really sleeping naked in my backyard?” she murmured groggily.

“Yep.”

“And is there really a gorgeous tattooed and pierced hunk plastered to my side?”

He smiled at her compliment. “Yep.”

“And is that a spider crawling up my leg?”

Owen sat up and flicked the offensive arachnid from her ankle.

“Poisonous?” she asked, calmly.

“Nope. Wolf spider.”

She shivered. “I’m chilly,” she said, her gorgeous brown eyes still glassy with sleep.

He tucked the sheet more closely around her and pulled her into his lap, rubbing her with both hands to warm her.

“I have a better idea for getting warm,” she said.

“Go inside?”

She touched his face, her gaze filled with warmth and affection. “Kiss me.”

Her taste was sharper in the morning, he noted, but that didn’t stop him from deepening his kiss.

“Better?” he asked when they drew apart. Personally, he was overheated.

She nodded. “You know what I wish?”

His heart thudded, knowing that the woman wished for incredible things that brought indescribable pleasure to his eager body. “What’s that?”

“That I didn’t have to pee so badly. This is a wonderful way to wake up. I’d like to enjoy it.”

He chuckled and kissed her nose before tipping her onto her feet. “Nature calls.”

Struck by her beauty—the tangle of her dark hair, the sheet that covered parts of her curves but not others, and the swollen quality of her recently kissed lips—he sat there and watched her leave the glass gazebo and tiptoe up the sloped yard toward the house.

“Are you coming?” she called to him.

He scooped up a wad of discarded clothing and pressed it against his already rising dick before he followed her. The grass was cool and damp beneath his bare feet, and the onshore breeze chilled his naked ass, but he was still on fire.

“Join me in the shower?” she asked when he followed her into the house.

He tugged a small leaf from her tangled locks. “Is that on your fantasy list?”

She grinned. “If it wasn’t, it is now.”

She had him exhausted, yet clean and satisfied, before breakfast. He was as horny as the next guy, but his stamina did have a few bounds. So when she reached for her fantasy list over a bowl of cereal—to undoubtedly determine what the rest of their day would bring—Owen took it from her and shoved it into his pocket.

“Let’s go to a museum,” he said.

She gave him an odd look. “Why?”

“You said you like them.” And ol’ Charlie doesn’t. “And as much as I enjoy every minute with your naked body, I wouldn’t mind spending time with the clothed version of you.”

“So the nudist museum is out,” she said.

He laughed. “Didn’t know there was such a thing, but maybe next time.”

“Next time.”

The future promised in her eyes made his heart skip a beat. He pulled his attention back to his bowl of wheat flakes—her idea of cooking breakfast. “So do you like art museums?”

“I do,” she said, “but my favorites are science museums.”

He managed not to make a face of displeasure. “Science, huh?”

She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Art it is,” she said.