Mack, his blue eyes clouded with desire, said, "I think we're skipping dessert, aren't we?"

Yeah, yes, uh-huh, that would be correct.

Would it look pathetic if she called for the check now?

Mack said, "I'm not really hungry. Let's get this to go."

She was liking him more and more each minute.

Mack was having a little trouble keeping his eyes on the road. They kept wanting to drift over to Kindra, who had her legs crossed again in the passenger seat, but whose skirt had hiked up way past the point of indifference.

Just one hand in and under the denim, and he would be touching her panties. He should have bought an automatic transmission instead of stick. Then his hand would be free to roam about the cabin, right under Kindra's skirt.

They weren't talking, but the air was rilled with Mexican spices from their boxed dinners, and a healthy dose of sexual tension.

Every inch of him was aware of her. Her soft breasts rising and falling, her small hands clasping and unclasping, and her sweet floral smell.

He was hard and heading out of control.

Kindra peeked at him from underneath long lashes.

His SUV flew into her driveway at forty miles an hour and he slammed on the brakes.

Kindra grabbed the dashboard and gasped. "That was fast."

"Can you get something out of the glove compartment for me?" If he had to lean across her tits, he was not going to be able to resist a kiss. Or a suck. Right here in her driveway.

"Sure." She popped it open. "Oh!"

She had spotted the big box of condoms he had thrown in there. Magnum size. Not that he was bragging or anything, but the regular kind just weren't comfortable.

"Yeah, just grab those, Kindra, and we'll go on in."

"Okay," she squeaked.

She gingerly pulled them out and held them away from her as if they were moldy cheese.

They got out of the car, and he followed her up the walk to the front door. Kindra, in her eagerness to keep the condoms away from her, had forgotten to push her skirt back down.

It was sliding and curving and moving, hugging her tight little ass and showing off a lot of thigh. It was made more alluring by the fact that Kindra was completely unaware that she looked hotter than hell.

On the front step, she took her key and bent her head to unlock the door.

The skirt cupped her ass. He could see her panty line. The last remaining threads of his control snapped.

When the door opened, he put his hands on her waist and pushed her in. She barely had time for a startled cry before he had spun her around and placed his mouth on hers.

Damn, she tasted good. Like sweet and hot and spicy, her plump lips falling open with a sigh of capitulation. He pushed his tongue in and plundered deep into her mouth.

His hands gripped her waist, pulling her against him, and he moved his legs around hers to cage her in with his body. He caressed her ass, grinding her against him as his fingers slid over the denim of her skirt. Too many clothes. They needed to come off.

Her breath came hot and fast in his ear as he pulled back and she whimpered.

That needy sound made him reach out and pull her bottom lip into his mouth and suck gently. He eased her against the nearest wall.

Her head fell back. She groaned. He pulsed with need. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman, ever.

He was going to have her.

His hand shot out, ready to grip her tank top and rip it off, when she whispered, "Mack."

Kindra's shy, trembling voice stopped him cold. He was supposed to be doing this right, taking his time and showing her that making love could be a wonderful thing, better than anything you could ever talk about in a chat room.

Don't blow this for her, he told himself harshly. His dick could wait five minutes.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped back. He shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. He counted to five.

Then he said in what was almost a normal voice, "Where's your computer, Kindra?"

Kindra blinked. What the heck was he talking about? She clung to the wall, her knee jutting out from where his leg had shoved her thighs apart.

He was moving into her living room, looking around, as if nothing had just happened between them. He said, "Are you connected all the time, or do you need to dial up?"

Why? Did he want to order a CD? Check his e-mail? Torture her?

She peeled herself off the wall and wiped her wet lips. "What?"

Though his stance was casual, Kindra could clearly see his huge erection pressing against his black casual pants. Good to see he wasn't totally unaffected.

"Cybersex, remember? If I'm going to prove to you that the real thing is better, I have to know what that guy is saying to you." He rubbed his jaw slowly. "I'll read what he says… then do whatever it is to you."

Hello. Kindra felt her knees go weak. She flopped against the wall again. Mack was four feet away from her and he was still causing her body to tingle.

His eyes ran up and down the length of her. His voice was hard. "Then you can decide which way is better."

"It's in the spare bedroom." She pointed down her hall. "My bedroom is upstairs, in one big room, because this is a Cape Cod, the other two bedrooms are down here, I use one for an office."

Clapping her mouth shut on her verbal diarrhea, Kindra let Mack take her hand and pull her toward the office. Her computer was on. She left it running all the time, and she had a twenty-four-hour connection, so it was just sitting there, humming happily, waiting for her.

Mack said, "Open one of his e-mails."

Kindra hesitated, hovering in the middle of the room. There was some graphic stuff in those. "I delete them all."

Mack smiled, his eyebrow raising. "Just retrieve them from the trash, Kindra. Come on, there's got to be some in there."

The room was small, and cluttered with the desk, a file cabinet, and a swivel chair. It had thick brown carpet that she had been meaning to replace, and she stumbled, her heel caught in a loose loop of the carpet. Mack caught her and held her for a heartbeat, then released her.

With trembling fingers, still standing, she went into her mailbox and fished around in her trash can.

"Here's one." Mack pointed to her screen.

There was more than one. There were a dozen at least. Russ's e-mail address stared back at her in black print, mocking her. Could she do this? Shy Kindra?

Could she indulge herself, enjoy this without guilt, and relegate Kindra the wallflower to the closet for one night?

"Open this one."

His voice was commanding, but soft. Titillating, but not frightening. She knew he wouldn't do anything she didn't want to.

Her finger clicked on the mouse.

The mail popped up.

" 'Kindra, what are you wearing?' " Mack read. He chuckled. "I told you, not very original."

He turned to look her over. "But let's see. What are you wearing?"

Kindra stood still in front of the desk while Mack moved around her, his finger trailing across her back.

"Sexy tank top in blue." He went around the front, his fin-gertip dragging over her arm and falling onto her breast. "A bra. Definitely wearing a bra."

He brushed her nipple. She gasped, then bit her lip nervously. The finger dipped down between her breasts, causing her to shiver, and headed down to her skirt, where Mack tugged at the waistband.

"Denim skirt."

Down, down he went while she narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists. Oh, help, he was on his knees now in front of her. She knew what he was going to do, and yet she didn't. Whatever it was, it would be a tease. She wanted his hands on her, both of them, touching, stroking, not this furtive brush with one finger.

She guessed that was the point. To make her ache. His finger wiggled into the slit of her skirt and rose vertically again, dragging the skirt up with him.