As they continued to stare at each other, the building tension between them was palpable and only broken briefly when he rose to his feet and walked over to a small control panel on the far wall. He pushed a button and the opening notes of a popular slow country song came from the speakers of the house audio system.

When he returned to the table, he held out his hand. “Could I have this dance, Mariah?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she said, placing her hand in his. She was well aware that he didn’t care for dancing and had only made the gesture because he knew how much she loved it. Her heart swelled with emotion at his thoughtfulness.

He immediately took her in his arms, and as they swayed in time to the music, she felt surrounded by the sheer power of the man holding her close. She brought her arms up to his wide shoulders and tangled her fingers in his dark brown hair where it brushed the collar of his shirt, and stared up into the eyes of the man who had given her the most romantic, most memorable Valentine’s Day of her life.

As they continued to hold each other, the song ended and another one began. Neither of them noticed. The steady beat of his heart against her breast and the evidence of his growing arousal nestled to her lower belly caused her to feel as if she would melt into a puddle at his booted feet. If she’d thought her need for him the night they made love was overwhelming, what she felt at that moment was all consuming.

“I want you, Mariah,” he said, his voice low and intimate.

“And I want you,” she said, feeling anticipation flow throughout her body. He kissed her and she felt as if her knees turned to jelly.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he suggested when he lifted his head.

Unable to find her voice, she simply nodded.

He turned to blow out the candle on the table, then put his arm around her shoulders and held her to his side as they walked out of the sunroom and went upstairs. They passed her bedroom and continued on down the hall to the master suite. Once they were inside and he closed the door behind them, Mariah wasn’t at all surprised when he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed.

“Why do you like carrying me?” she asked, kissing the column of his neck. “Is it an alpha male thing?”

He chuckled. “I hadn’t really thought about it, but that might be.” He set her on her feet beside the bed, then gently kissed her. “More likely it’s because I can hold you closer and have easier access when I want to kiss you.”

Mariah raised her hand to cup his jaw. “You won’t get any complaints from me about that,” she said, smiling.

“I know it’s a little late to ask you this, but are you sure this is what you want, darlin’?” he asked, staring down at her.

“I’ve wanted you since we made love the first time, Jaron,” she said seriously. “And I’m almost certain you’ve wanted me.”

“Every minute of every day since,” he admitted, nodding. He hesitated a moment before he added, “I still can’t promise—”

She placed her finger to his mouth to silence him. “I’m not asking you for any kind of promises or declarations. All I want is to share the same beautiful experience with you that we had the first time we made love.”

“I promise it will be better,” he said, kissing her finger.

Moving her hand to touch the pulse beating at the base of his throat, she shook her head. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“In that case, I guess I’ll just have to show you,” he said, slowly lowering his head.

When he captured her lips with his, Mariah knew in her heart that Jaron cared deeply for her. He might not even realize how much, but she did. No man had ever held her in his arms as if she were a rare and precious gift or kissed her as tenderly as he did. For now, that was enough for her.

As he continued to explore and tease her, she sighed from the sheer joy of being in his arms. Her pulse raced when he slipped his tongue between her parted lips and coaxed her into an erotic game of advance and retreat as he stroked and caressed.

All too soon, he eased away from the kiss to nibble his way along her jaw and down her throat to her collarbone. “Why don’t we get out of these clothes so I can love you,” he said, his smile reflecting his intention as he bent to pull off his boots and remove her high heels.

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” she agreed. She briefly wondered why he hadn’t turned on the bedside lamp. But a dim light from the partially open door of the bathroom cast their silhouette on the closed drapes and she found it extremely romantic.

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