The boys groaned but promised to be there. Shay saw that he could relate to them, meet them on their level, and it was obvious that they admired and respected not only his physical prowess, which awed them, but also his character. The boys would do well to pattern themselves after Ian Douglas.
As they left the gym, Shay felt a familiar tightening in her throat.
After the conclusion of the Bible study groups that evening, they took only enough time to change clothes before they started the drive to Woodville.
"What did you think of my sermon?" Ian asked as the station wagon rolled along the highway with Sunday's late shadows slanting across its path. This was the first time all weekend he'd asked for her opinion about his work and his way of life.
"It was wonderful," Shay said emotionally.
Again she felt ridiculously close to tears without knowing why. "I liked everything—your town, your house, your church, and the people in it."
"You enjoyed yourself? You had a good time?"
Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.
Ian's face expressed deep tenderness as he clasped his hand in hers. They drove in silence the rest of the way to her apartment.
"Brrrr," Ian said, carrying her suitcase inside. "It's cold in here. Didn't you leave on any heat when you left?"
"No. I didn't count on it getting so cold this weekend."
"Is that wood ready to light?" he asked, indicating the logs stacked on the grate.
"Even the kindling. I've been waiting for a chance to have a fire."
"No time like the present." He rubbed his hands together before dropping to his knees to check the damper.
By the time the fire was cheerily licking at the logs, she had prepared two mugs of hot chocolate. "This will ward off the chill on the inside," she said, setting the tray on the floor and plopping down beside Ian, who sat staring into the flames.
Minutes passed as they sat there silently, not touching, not even looking at each other, only gazing into the fire while the steaming chocolate cooled. It had become tepid by the time Shay tasted it. Ian turned his head and looked at her with a monumental question in his eyes.
He must have seen an answer in hers. Wordlessly, he moved aside the tray. They came to each other as though a pair of benevolent hands had granted their most heartfelt wish and pushed them together.
Their mouths formed an inseparable bond as Ian lowered them to the rug. As though this coming together were predestined, they adjusted their bodies to each other. Their legs became sandwiched. Their arms competed to gain the most ground. Her soft breasts cushioned his hard chest.
"You're so beautiful … beautiful." Shay gasped in surprise when his tongue found the delicate interior of her ear. "Your skin feels so good against my mouth."
His lips found hers once again as he rolled them over until she was lying on top of him. His head came off the floor to take tiny love bites out of her neck while his hands plunged beneath her cotton knit sweater and caressed the silky warmth of her back.
His fingers coasted down her ribs. His palms barely brushed the sides of her breasts, but it was enough to make them both murmur with longing. With his hands still under her sweater, he rolled them over again. This time he lay on top of her in a timeless embrace.
His eyes drilled into hers as his hand closed gently around her bare breast. "I've relived that morning last summer a million times," he confessed hoarsely. "I thought I was dreaming, but maybe I wasn't. Maybe that was just the excuse I invented for touching you like this. I had wanted to touch you since I first saw you. You feel as beautiful as you are, Shay."
"I was dying for you to touch me," she whispered. "Touch me now." She clasped his head between her palms and brought his mouth down to hers. His fingers fanned the aroused peak of her breast as her tongue brazenly rubbed the tip of his.
Eager to know the feel of his skin, she raised his sweater to bare his stomach. Desire took her beyond inhibition as her fingers combed through the crinkly hair and found the spot where the growth pattern began to narrow and the texture became silky. She followed it to the fly of his jeans.
He drew in a shuddering breath, but she didn't need that sound to alert her to his arousal, which throbbed hard and hot against her thigh even through their jeans. "Shay, Shay. I want you."
He brushed her breast and pushed it upward slightly, then buried his face against the soft mound covered by her sweater. Her nipple was swollen with passion un
der the cotton. His wayward mouth found it and worried it with a flicking tongue. His teeth scraped it gently and nibbled lightly. Sweater and all, he enfolded it in his mouth and tugged rhythmically. Matching that beat, his hips ground against hers.
"Yes, Ian. Please," she called in sporadic pants. "Ian, please."
Then, just as suddenly and as silently as it had begun, the embrace ended. He bolted up from the floor, crossed his arms on the mantel, and rested his forehead against them.
Like a sprung mechanism, she sat upright, too, her body forming a perfect right angle. Rage crept up her shoulders and neck like a tide to flood her face with angry color.