She was fully aware that he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.
If there was this much adventure to be found in his kiss, how much more would she discover when they made love? And was she really brave enough, really ready to find out?
He lifted his head, shifted his mouth to a new angle and kissed her again, his hands cupping her hips to lift her higher against him.
Yes, she decided, wrapping her arms around his neck. She was brave enough. And she was more than ready.
Still kissing her, Reed moved, lowering her to the bed and following her down. He lay half on top of her, his legs tangled with hers. He kissed her eyes, her nose, her temples, her throat.
“Celia,” he murmured, his big, warm hands cupping her face. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
She managed a thin, shaky laugh. “You can’t know how hard it was for me to come.”
“I can imagine.” He touched his lips to her flushed cheek. “I’m glad you didn’t chicken out this time.”
She remembered telling him about the parasailing fiasco, and she laughed softly. “I guess I found my sense of adventure, after all. But I’m still scared,” she had to admit.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured, gathering her closer
, his lips only a breath above hers. “I’ll keep you safe.”
She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be safe tonight. She wanted excitement, adventure, passion, exhilaration. And she wanted to find them all with Reed.
Somehow, she knew she wouldn’t be disappointed with his lovemaking. Instinct told her that Reed would provide her with everything she’d always hoped to find.
The tiny buttons of her thin cotton blouse opened easily beneath his fingers. His lips followed the slowly widening opening.
Celia’s hands clenched on his bare shoulders. “Reed,” she whispered, just to hear his name.
He murmured something incoherent and nuzzled the top of her right breast. She sighed.
He reached the top of her lacy bra, paused, then nudged it aside. A moment later, his lips closed gently around her nipple. Waves of reaction crashed through her, cresting somewhere deep inside her. Celia moaned and arched upward, her hands locked in his hair to hold him more tightly against her.
How could she have imagined that anything could feel this good, this perfect? This right?
He slid one hand slowly up her bare leg, beneath the full cotton skirt that was bunched around and beneath her. His palm was so hot; it seemed to burn a path upward. She reveled in the heat. His fingers stroked her hips, then moved steadily inward, toward the tiny triangle of satin that was all she wore beneath the skirt.
She drew her leg upward, dimly aware that she must have kicked off her huaraches without even realizing it. Her bare toes curled into the bedspread.
It occurred to her that there was something he should know before this went any further. She didn’t want him to be disappointed, wanted him to know that she was willing, but uncertain of what to do to please him. And, oh, how she wanted to please him!
His fingers brushed against her through her rapidly dampening panties and she knew she’d better speak now. She had to—before she completely lost the power of speech. “Reed?”
He brought his head back up and kissed her. “Mmm?” he asked, his lips moving softly against hers.
His fingers moved again, and she shuddered in reaction. Her thighs tightened instinctively around his caressing hand. “I—there’s something I need to tell you.”
He touched the tip of his tongue to her lower lip, then rubbed his own lips over the moistened area. “Can’t it wait?”
He slipped one finger beneath the hem of her panties.
Celia gasped. “No,” she managed. “I don’t think it can.”
He sighed, but drew his hand away. Slowly. Still holding her close to him, he raised his head and studied her flaming face. “What is it, Celia?”
She moistened her tingling lips. How to begin? “I haven’t been sleeping with Damien,” she said.
One corner of his mouth quirked—whether in surprise or satisfaction, she wasn’t sure. “Good.”