He took both his index fingers and ran them in a barely-there touch along the lace framing her breasts. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze on his fingers, or rather what they touched.

Before she knew his intentions, he pulled the silk down and exposed her nipples. Sucking in a breath of air, she whimpered as his fingers pinched and teased. Her lashes fell shut, her head tilting backwards.

And then his mouth was on one, warm as it suckled, sending waves of pleasure to her breasts and along her skin. Her hands moved into his hair, cupping his face. Without warning, Mark rolled her to her back, using his legs to part hers, and settling between them. His mouth was on her, his tongue hungrily sliding against hers, his body pressed into hers.

Her leg slid over his, trying to pull him closer. For long minutes, she was lost in his kisses, his flavor, his touch . . . . but in some far recess of her mind she registered a knocking on the door. “Mark?” Lindsey murmured against his lips, only to find herself thoroughly kissed again.

“Mark,” she whispered, his teeth nipping her bottom lip. “The door.”

“They’ll leave,” he said, pushing his weight to his elbows, and staring down at her, and then making a low sound before kissing her again. She tried to keep a hold of reality, but his hand cupped her breast, and kneaded, pulling her back into the haze of their heat.

But the doorbell rang, and then someone knocked. “Mark, you better get it.”

Mark buried his head in her shoulder. “Damn it.”

She ran her hand through his hair, urging him to look at her. When his eyes lifted to hers, she said, “I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes flashed with debate, and then he sighed and pushed to his feet, reaching for the buttons on his shirt as he walked towards the door.

Lindsey sat up, trying to gather her thoughts. She tugged her bra back into place and put her shirt back on. As she moved to sit on the couch, she could hear Mark exchanging words with a man at the door. A few seconds, later he returned, eyes taking in her replaced clothing, as he sat the bags on the table.

Mark reached for her hand, and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s finish what we started in the bedroom.” She let him pull her into his arms and kiss her, a slow exploration that promised so much more to come.

Then he led her towards his room, and she followed. Anticipation burned inside, making her both eager for what was to come, and also nervous. It had been a long time since she had been with a man, and never before had it felt quite so exposing but yet liberating. Mark seemed as if he could make love to not only her body, but her mind.

The bedroom was lit by the moon and stars shining through a full wall of ceiling-to-floor windows. The shadows in the room seemed to add to the intimacy as she looked towards the massive bed framed with four huge posts, and covered in mounds of blankets.

Stopping beside it, Mark turned to her, his hands going to her waist. “I would love to have you laying naked right in the center of my bed.”

Her brow lifted. “Would you, now?”

He nodded. “Very much,” he said and lifted her so that she sat on the side of the bed, then nudged her legs apart, urging her back to the mattress. He leaned over her, palms pressed into the mattress. “What do you want, Lindsey?”

Her voice was slight. His words had her warm with possibilities . . . “You naked with me,” she said, as her arms went around his neck. “Can I have my wish?”

He kissed her then, his mouth closing over hers, hot and demanding. All she could think was more. She wanted more. It would never be enough. She tasted him with frenzied, burning need, her tongue sliding against his, savoring the flavor. His flavor. So male. So unique. So addictive.

They shuffled, minds working within a shared desire, shifting farther onto the bed. His hands were all over her, moving up her blouse, flat on her bare skin. “Take this off,” he said hoarsely.

“Okay,” she whispered, “but you too. Take yours off.” On second thought, “Take it all off.”

He stared down at her, their eyes locking and holding. She felt a connection then, something that made her aroused from head to toe, but it was so much deeper than just physical. Or was it? Could they have an attraction so potent that a mere stare could make her sizzle from head to toe?

She could hardly catch her breath. What she felt, so raw and alive, scared her, made her feel out of control. Desperate to gain control, trying to break the spell that was taking it, she said, “Get undressed.”

His gaze narrowed a moment, as if he knew what she was doing, but he didn’t argue. He pushed to his knees and started unbuttoning his shirt. She sat up and pulled her shirt over her head as he tossed his aside . . . She stared at the perfection of his broad chest, the sprinkling of light brown hair, and perfect biceps, with admiration.

She wet her lips, feeling the urgency to explore, to touch, to feel. But he moved. She wanted to reach for him, but he pushed off the bed. Before she could complain, he halted her words, as he bent and took off his shoes. She liked the direction this was going. Her boots were gone in mere seconds, tossed to the floor, and drawing laughter from Mark.

He smiled. “Don’t stop there.”

“You either,” she said, smiling through the heat of desire, wanting to say, be fast about it. Instead, she quickly slid her pants down her legs, leaving her panties in place.

She looked up to find him gloriously naked, and . . . hard. Swallowing took effort. He was gorgeous. Leaning back on her palms she watched as his knees hit the mattress. He stayed that way, gently urging her legs apart. His eyes dropped to her legs, and slowly moved to the center and settled on the tiny piece of lace. Then, on the move again, they traveled up her stomach, and to her breasts.

When his eyes finally settled on hers, she was wet with desire, feeling as if she had been completely, seductively touched. “You are so beautiful,” he said, with obvious arousal etching his low voice.

His palms, which still rested on her knees, began to move, sliding up her thighs in a seductive caress. When his hands reached the top of her legs, he slid his thumbs on her inner thighs, moving them so that they brushed the silk covering. The effect was like a jolt of pleasure dancing along each and every nerve ending of her body.

“Mark,” she whispered. He looked at her. “Please come here.”

“Not yet,” he said, his thumbs stroking her panties, and then dipping beneath to touch her sensitive core. Then he bent, taking her off guard as his lips pressed on her stomach. She fell back on the mattress, letting the soft cushion absorb the impact of her body, hands going to his hair just as his tongue dipped into her navel. At the same moment, his hands went to her panties, pulling them over her hips and down her legs. She kicked them off as his mouth traveled upward, mouth closing over her bra, teeth scraping her nipple through the lace even as his fingers popped the front clasp.

Moments later his hands were covering her breasts, his lips pressing to hers. All her promises to control how they came together were gone. She was lost in him, begging for more, unable to stop herself. Her body arched into his, his arousal nuzzling her thighs, his fingers pinching her nipples until she whimpered into his mouth.

His lips trailed along her jaw, to her ear. “You make me crazy, Lindsey,” he whispered.

She made a sound of pleasure as he nipped her lobe. “You’re making me crazy.”

He moved so that his lips lingered just above hers. “Good,” he said, and his eyes locked with hers. “Then we’re even.”

Something about the way he said the words made her hand go to his cheek. “What?” She blinked, trying to clear her passion-fogged mind.

“You and me,” he said. “We’re even. I want you. You want me.”