Norah shucked the jacket and considered stripping off the rest to speed things along. Her pulse hummed in delicious anticipation. She’d wanted him since that first night, wanted to lose herself in the heat they made together. With the feelings she’d developed since—she
was all but drunk with desire.
In less than two minutes, Cam bounded back through the door, shutting and locking it. Hush howled from the barn below, sounding for all the world as if she’d been put in prison.
“I feel bad for her. She sounds so pitiful.”
“We’ll make it up to her,” Cam assured her as he crossed the room to the stereo. “I’ll fix her chicken and peanut butter. But I don’t have any intention of being interrupted before morning.”
“Thank God for that. I’ve had enough interruptions for the night.”
Something slow and jazzy spilled out from the speakers to block out the sound of the dog.
“There won’t be any more, so let’s slow things down a bit.”
She shook her head, reaching for him again and making quick work of the buttons of his shirt. “Fast now to take the edge off. Slow later.” Parting the fabric, she gripped one side in each fist and pulled him to her so she could nip lightly at the tendon in his throat.
“But I like the edge.” Nudging one strap of her dress down her shoulder, he followed the trail with his mouth.
Her body tightened, her breath skipping in response. “The edge makes me crazy.”
“I’m gonna make you crazier.” Cam backed her across the loft, toward the bedroom, sliding down the other strap. “See, I’ve had considerable time to think about what I wanted to do when I got you here like this.”
“Oh yeah?” She shoved the shirt from his shoulders. He was beautifully made, the lean lines of his muscles sculpted from hard physical labor rather than a gym. She wanted to map him with her hands, learn his contours with her mouth.
“One thing I’ve noticed about you is that you never stop thinking. The wheels in that sexy brain of yours are always turning. So I’ve got one goal.” He dragged down the zipper of her dress, until the only thing holding it up was the press of his body to hers.
“Which is?”
“To make them stop.”
“That’s a pretty big goal. Nobody’s ever managed it.”
“I think you’ll find I’m up to the task.” Proof of that fact pressed into her belly.
“You’re up to something.”
His smile spread, slow and wicked as he eased away from her to finish shedding the shirt.
Norah crossed one arm over her breast to hold the dress in place and offered a smile of her own as she backed away into one of the silvered squares of moonlight spilling through the intermittent skylights. From the shadows, she could feel Cam watching as she let the dress peel away, sliding down her body, until she stepped gingerly out of it.
“Sweet Mary, mother of God,” he breathed.
“I did a little shopping when I was in Oxford.”
His fingers reverently traced the line of the garters that held up the sheer, thigh high stockings. “If I’d known you were wearing this, we’d never have made it to the dance.”
“If I’d known everybody and their brother was going to treat tonight as another day at the office, I’d have said we could just skip it.” And yet something about the interruptions had felt good. Because it meant she was a part of something. That people trusted her enough to come to her for help.
“It’s part of being in the public eye. They’ll be back at it tomorrow. But not tonight. The rest of tonight is for us.”
He pulled her in, his broad palms skimming up the bare skin of her back as he took her mouth in a slow drugging kiss that blurred the details of the rest of the evening. He drew the straps of her bra down and away, baring her breasts. They felt full and heavy, cupped in his calloused palms. She pressed into his touch, sweeping her tongue into his mouth, inviting the same as she struggled to take control.
But he wouldn’t be rushed.
He stroked, tasted, and explored until her breath hitched and her legs trembled. Dizzy, she realized he’d lured her, one sexy step at a time into the bedroom. A wide shaft of moonlight haloed the bed. She wanted him there, wanted to watch the slick play of muscle as he moved inside her and they lost themselves to oblivion.
But Cam apparently had other ideas. He knelt before her, bringing her hands to his shoulders for balance as he slipped off first one shoe, then the other, until she stood, swaying a little in her stockinged feet. With more of that infinite patience, he detached one garter and began to roll the stocking down, following the trail with his lips.