There was a beat of tense silence, then Luke tugged the collar of her borrowed sweatshirt from her throat. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I haven’t had you yet.” His mouth found the curve of her shoulder and she shivered, tilting her head to give him better access, holding her breath to see what would happen next.

“Will you?” she asked but he shushed her, massaging her shoulders.

“Don’t talk,” he murmured, his lips tickling her skin, his fingers working magic between her shoulder blades. “You just went all tense on me. I want you relaxed. I want that mind of yours to take a rest. Don’t think about what will or won’t happen. Just feel. Feel this.” He twisted her hair around his fist and gently pulled her head forward, brushing kisses down her neck. “Feel good?” he murmured when she sighed.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He pushed her head to the other side, and she hummed deep in her throat when he treated her to the same teasing caresses on the other side. “This is how it should be,” he said. “You should feel good, want more. Do you want more?”

He was making this so easy. So sweet. Slowly she nodded and he went still for a moment. Then his hands slipped under her sweatshirt, warm on her skin. Her stomach muscles clenched and she felt him smile against her neck. “Ticklish?”

“More like nervous.” She tensed as his fingers slowly climbed her rib cage.

She heard him swallow and his hands ceased. “I think we need to stop.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you. But I won’t push you. I want you crazy for me, not afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” she said, but even she could hear the tremble in her voice.

“You don’t want to be. And soon you won’t be. But I can only hold back so much.”

And he was holding back, but he hadn’t retreated. Even though his hands had stopped, they hadn’t withdrawn. His thumbs were mere inches from the fullest part of her breast, tempting, tantalizing.

She didn’t want to be afraid. Today she’d faced a killer without fear. To be afraid of this, her own sexuality, seemed ludicrous and more than a little sad. She was standing in the arms of a good, decent man who knew everything about her and wanted her anyway. She’d walked away from too many things in her life.

There was no way in hell she was walking away from this.

Before he could say another word she pushed his hands up. His groan mixed with hers as he claimed her, covering her lace-covered breasts with his palms. It felt good. Too good. And not nearly enough. She pressed back against him, feeling him hard and ready against her. She wriggled, wringing another groan from his chest.

“No,” he said, his mouth on her neck. “Not yet.” She pressed harder backward. His thumbs found her nipples and electricity sizzled over her skin. “It’s not time.” But he was breathing hard in her ear and his hips were thrusting, the rhythm making her crazy for him. “Dammit, Susannah. Tell me to stop. Please.”

And he would stop if she asked. She knew it. Just as she knew she didn’t want him to. “I almost died today.”

“I know. I can’t stop seeing it happen again and again. But that’s not good enough reason to do this now, tonight. We’ve got time. Lots of time.”

“I’ve waited long enough. I came back here to get my life back. Help me do that.”

He hesitated. “How do you want it?” he asked roughly.

The question thrilled her darkly and she thought about the dusty box he’d hidden back in his closet. But this was new. She was new.

“I want to see if I can do it… normally.”

“Susannah, any way we do it will be normal. I promise you that.”

“I… want to see your face.”

He stilled, laying his cheek on the top of her head. “Give me a minute.” She counted the beats of her heart until he slid his hands out from under her sweatshirt. “Go sit on the bed.”

She obeyed, watching as he lifted the basket, dogs and all. He put them outside the door, closed it firmly. Then he knelt in front of her. “You’re sure this is what you want.”

She nodded, meeting his eyes. “I’m sure.”

“All right.”

She expected him to rise then, but he stayed where he was, running his hands up and down her calves. “What?”

He smiled. “You New York women,” he teased. “Slow down, Susannah. Stay a while.” He looked up, his eyes gleaming. “I intend to.”

Her chest tightened and she had no response, which made him smile.

“The first time I saw you, you were wearing a skirt like this.”

“At my parents’ funeral. Last week,” she managed, and he nodded.

“I wondered then what it would be like with you. What it would take to get you out of that proper suit. What would it take?”

She swallowed. “Ask me. Nicely.”

He sat back on his haunches. “Take off your skirt for me. Please.”

Her heart thundering, she slid off the bed. His hands played up and down her legs as she struggled with the button at her back. He watched, black eyes intense. Finally she simply yanked the button off and his lips twitched. “That was your last clean skirt.”

“You’re enjoying this,” she accused unsteadily.

He lifted his brows. “Aren’t you?”

She was, she realized. “Yes.” She stood, her hands stilled on the zipper, making him wait this time. His eyes went dark and his hands tugged at the hem and she complied, easing the zipper down and pushing the skirt past her hips.

He took it the rest of the way, staring at the lace underwear Mitra had so skillfully chosen. “Pretty,” he said, huskily. She started to take them off but he stopped her. “Not yet. Sit back down.” He leaned in close and pressed his lips to the inside of one thigh, then the other, until her legs quaked.

“Luke,” she whispered, waiting for his mouth to touch her where she throbbed, but he didn’t, bypassing her panties entirely. He pushed the sweatshirt up only far enough to kiss her stomach.

“I keep thinking about you kneeling in the woods in your bra.” His voice was ragged. “Show it to me now. Please.”

Again she complied, knowing he was exciting himself as well as her. She pulled the sweatshirt over her head and dropped it on the floor, waiting. He drew a breath, let it out. “Nice. Very nice.” Gently he pushed her knees apart and knelt between them, running his hands up her back. He kissed his way up her stomach, then between her breasts. She waited, holding her breath, but he kept going up, kissing the hollow of her throat. Her laugh was strangled.

“Luke.” She felt him smile against her throat.

“Are you having a nice time, Susannah?”

She wanted to throttle him. “Yes. No. Dammit, what are you waiting for?”

“I’m wooing you,” he said lightly. “You want to rush through. I’ve waited for a long time for this.” He nuzzled her breast through her bra and she gasped.

“You met me last week.”

“But I’ve waited for you forever.” He looked up suddenly, his eyes sharp. “I have. That sounds like a line, I know. But it’s the truth.”

She ran her thumb across his jaw, feeling his stubble tickle her skin. “I know.” She leaned forward, touched her lips to his. “I have, too.”

“I want you,” he whispered, his voice shaking.

“Then stop teasing me,” she whispered back. “Do it.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek. “What do you want?”

“Your mouth.” She swallowed. “On me.”

His smile was fierce. “Where?”

“Everywhere.” God, she felt like she was going to explode. She flattened her palms on his cheeks and pulled his face to her breast. Hungrily he took her in his mouth, sucking hard through the lace. His hands twisted the clasp at her back, popping it free with startling ease. But she didn’t think about where he’d learned the trick, because he was pulling the bra away and his mouth was on her flesh. She held him close, her head thrown back, eyes closed, absorbing.

He pulled away, just enough to see her face. “Susannah.”

She dropped her head forward, focusing on his face, already missing him. “What?”