She almost moaned at the loss of his touch. If her knees went this weak over a few kisses, she would be a serious mess soon. She sagged to the edge of his bed, watching with curiosity as he strode across the room and swept aside the mini-blinds. Bo jerked open the window, reached to unclip his cell phone and...
Pitched it outside.
"Ohmigod!" She collapsed onto her elbows into the soft give of down filling. "I can't believe you just did that."
"Oh, yeah? Then you probably won't believe this, either." He scooped up the telephone from the bedside table and yanked.
The wire popped from the wall.
A delicious shiver tickled up her spine. Sure it was a macho show and the phone in the next room was still in working order. But, oh, my, it was a wonderfully romantic gesture because it showed he'd listened to her about Kurt's workaholic distance.
Kurt had lavished her with everything from body oils to expensive lingerie, even a roomful of roses and a tray of fresh oysters once, all in an attempt to be good to her. He'd vowed he wanted to shower her with everything, yet always withheld the one thing she craved most, his sole focus.
Her husband could have been seconds away from penetration, and if the phone rang or doorbell chimed, he'd skim a quick kiss while he hiked his pants back up. Now she knew she'd been second to crooks.
Not anymore. She'd made major strides in reconciling her past tonight, and she wouldn't let thoughts of that dead bastard steal even one iota of her attention. Bo deserved a hundred percent of her focus, as well.
And there was no mistaking that she had his complete and undivided attention—the most enticing aphrodisiac of all. Just the two of them. No fancy mood music. No dim lighting or BS extras, and that swiped away any lingering doubts or ridiculous insecurities about the size of her butt.
Rising from the edge of the bed, she kicked her sandals free and shimmied out of her shorts before he could make it across the room. A low whistle of appreciation sounded from Bo, echoed in his eyes, crystal blue deepening to royal hues.
"Now, that's a view to carry a man through the night—you in just my shirt." He sauntered closer, grasping her h*ps in broad hands and urging her forward until they stood flush against each other again. "Let's slow down so I can enjoy it."
His mouth brushed one corner of her lips, then the other, tormenting until she opened in an unspoken demand that he do the same. And how wonderfully accommodating he was while still taking his slow, sweet time as promised, standing in the middle of the room to neck like two teenagers.
Starting at the strong column of his neck, she unbuttoned, delighting in each inch of toned, tanned chest coming into view. Military dog tags nestled in the dusting of hair across his pecs. Even while his hands moved over her arms, back, teasing along and up the outside of her thighs, his eyes never left hers as if he savored watching her reactions as much as her touch.
Air swirled over her chest in a surprise burst since she couldn't recall him unbuttoning her shirt. She suspected this man could well steal reason and thought. Which happened to be exactly what she wanted right now.
She skimmed his shirt over his shoulders, muscles rippling under her hands. In reaction?
Or from restraint? Both equally heady notions.
Her shirt—or rather his on her—slithered down and off to pool at her feet, quickly followed by her bra, leaving her in nothing but her panties while he stood in only his khaki shorts. Thank heavens she'd thought to indulge in pink satin after her shower.
She glided her palms along his chest over sun-heated skin taut across muscles, around to his back to pull him against her bare br**sts and sighed. She'd forgotten how good skin-to-skin felt.
Or had it ever felt this good?
He danced her backward until the mattress bumped her thighs then— whoosh—she fell onto the bed, tugging him with her. He swept aside her glasses, resting them on the bedside table before stretching along the length of her.
And she'd thought skin-to-skin felt good. The solid press of his weight against her, even propped on his elbows, stirred primal longings that defied description.
She tore at his shorts with frantic hands. "Enough foreplay."
"There's never too much foreplay." He nipped his way down her neck to her breast. He lifted his face to blow cool air over the taut peak of her nipple.
"Says you." She pitched aside his boxers and cradled the weight of him in her hand until she could see him fight to keep his eyes open.
"Two can play that game." His stroked down her hip, lower until he cupped her damp heat in his palm, the gentle pressure of slow circles threatening to send her leaping out of her skin. "Maybe you're right about enough foreplay for now."
Returning his attention to her breast, he reached into the bedside table, yanked the drawer open, his hand returning between them with a condom—and thank heavens someone was thinking here.
Thick, blunt pressure increased as he filled her, deeper, fuller and definitely more incredible than anything she'd remembered.
"You okay?" He stared down at her with such intensity in those deep blue eyes, she didn't doubt for a second where his attention rested.
"Perfect."