His kiss was firm, his lips melding with hers. One hand cupped the back of her head, the other twined about her back to hold her flush with his chest. She could feel his heart thundering, echoing her own.
“This is where you belong. In my arms,” he whispered against her ear.
She wanted to agree, but all she could do was hold on to him. His lips latched onto her earlobe, making her startlingly aware of every inch of her body. She throbbed with something she’d never experienced before. When his lips and tongue trailed along the line of her neck, she slid her arms around his waist—seeking some sort of anchor.
His lips traveled along her jaw, but it wasn’t enough. She turned into his kiss, her lips parted in invitation. Fisher’s kiss... He kissed her in a way that blotted out the world. It was just her, held in his strong arms, pressed against this mountain of a man who cared about her.
His tongue touched hers, eliciting a groan from him and a gasp from her. He stopped suddenly, resting his forehead against her own. Her fingers gripped the back of his shirt, wanting to keep him where he was...needing him to stay. But his arms relaxed and he stepped away from her, the look in his eyes revealing just how conflicted he was.
“You’re being careful with me?” she asked, surprised at how husky and ragged she sounded.
He nodded once, his gaze falling to her lips.
She swallowed her nerves. “I know you won’t hurt me. Kiss me, Fisher,” she said.
His jaw clenched briefly before he crushed her against him. His mouth was demanding and she didn’t mind. She deepened her kiss, gripping his head with both hands and standing on tiptoe to hold on to him. Her scrubs top moved with her, partially exposing her back and midriff. His hand was like a brand against her skin, rocking her to her core. She shuddered, the heat of his skin on hers powerful. She ached, wanting more. His kiss eased, his lips a featherlight caress as his hand slid beneath her shirt along her spine.
His hand shook. His breath hitched... Because he was touching her. Because she affected him, the way he affected her. Her heart thumped, stunned that she could make anyone feel something so powerful. She was glad it was Fisher. She clasped his face between her hands and stared up at him. His green eyes were foggy with desire, something she’d never known before. But now...she desired this man. And she loved him.
His hand moved down her spine and along the waist of her pants. When his fingers traveled upward, she shuddered. His palm was pressed against her side while his fingers stroked the flesh along her bra’s edge.
His hand disappeared and he stepped away from her. “Damn, I’m sorry, Kylee.” He ran a hand over his face. With another shake of his head he marched out of the room to reappear on the other side of the bar that separated the large family room from his kitchen.
She was still standing there, reeling, when he started rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. What was happening? She hadn’t stopped him...she hadn’t wanted him to stop. She still didn’t want him to stop. Whatever he’d triggered inside of her, she wasn’t ready to let it go.
“Chicken?” he asked tightly, staring into his refrigerator.
She stared at him, unable to rein in the sensations he’d stirred.
He looked at her, almost apologetically.
“You’re hungry?” she asked, trying to make sense of his reaction.
He closed the refrigerator door deliberately, his hands resting on his hips. “I figure now’s a good time to put some space between us.” His voice was low, his tone controlled.
She frowned. “Why?”
He shook his head, his breathing still irregular.
“What...did I do something wrong?” she asked, confused by his behavior. “If... I can go.”
“No. It’s me. I’m pushing things, pushing you.” He placed both hands on the counter, leaning forward. “I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay. But I invited you for dinner and I meant it. I wasn’t trying to get you into bed.”
His words made her heart thump. Knowing Fisher, that was probably true. She’d never thought she’d be interested in being in Fisher’s bed. But now it sounded like the perfect place to be. “You...you don’t want to sleep with me?” she asked.
He stared at his hands on the counter, the muscle in his jaw leaping. “Kylee...hell, I want you to love me.” He broke off, looking at her. “Like I love you. Because I do. I love you.” His jaw muscle jumped again. “I want you. I want you so bad I hurt. But you need to know I’m not just in this for sex. I’m in this for you. And me. And the future I want with you.”
He loved her. He, Fisher Boone, loved her. She’d never heard anything more wonderful. At the same time, it made no sense. How could someone like him love her? “You can’t love me, Fisher,” she argued. “Not after the things I’ve done. I’m not—”
“I can love you, Kylee James, and I do.” His eyes swept over her. “I may not know every detail of your life before Stonewall Crossing but it doesn’t matter. You did what you had to so you could take care of you and Shawn. I respect that. I respect you. I love your gentle heart. Your fierce loyalty. You’re a beautiful—good—woman. And whether or not you want to argue about it, I do love you.” He pushed off the counter, turned back to the refrigerator and pulled the door open.
She smiled. She didn’t want to argue about it. She wanted to believe him. She knew, in her heart, she knew she was his. Whatever happened, there was no point denying it. She didn’t want to deny it. He didn’t judge her. He respected her. He loved her. And he didn’t want to push her into doing something she didn’t want to do.
What he didn’t understand was that she did want this, all of this. All of him.
She moved around the bar and into the kitchen. She slid her arms around his waist, holding on tightly as she said, “I love you, too, Fisher.” She paused, digging deep for the courage to say, “I love you. I don’t want dinner right now. I want you.”
He froze briefly.