Even the mention of his parents made her go a little pale. Apparently, it had been too soon to even suggest that she meet them. Catherine was definitely the take-things-slowly type, while he was more of the jump-in-feet-first persuasion. No surprise there, of course.
“Maybe we should just leave everyone else out of this for a while,” he suggested quickly to reassure her. “Maybe we could spend more time together, just the two of us, before we try mingling with our friends again. And Norman, of course,” he added when the cat meowed as if in protest.
She rested a hand on his chest, somberly studying the way her fingers looked against his brown sweater. “We can’t just ignore the rest of the world. We both have lives outside this apartment.”
“Do we?” He slipped his other arm around her, drawing her closer. “When we’re here, like this, I can’t seem to think of anyone or anything but you. All those other people, those irritating complications—they just don’t matter when I’m holding you like this.”
He felt a slight tremor run through her hand. “That isn’t a very sensible way of looking at things.”
“I’m not feeling very sensible right now,” he murmured, looking down at the top of her bent head.
She raised her face then, her darkened eyes meeting his. “What are you feeling right now?”
The answer popped into his head without the need for thought. “Hungry,” he muttered. And he captured her mouth with his own.
Her hesitation lasted only a moment—but still long enough to almost stop his heart. It started again with a hard thump when she raised her arms around his neck and melted willingly into his embrace.
Chapter Eleven
All her life, Catherine had been practical, sensible, responsible. She rarely acted on impulse, never flirted with danger, never, ever allowed her emotions to overrule her common sense.
So, it was entirely out of character for her to take Mike by the hand and lead him into her bedroom, closing the door very firmly in her curious cat’s face. She’d half expected Norman to throw a yowling fit, since he hated nothing more than a closed door in “his” apartment, but for once her pet was discreetly cooperative.
Mike hadn’t said anything, but his gaze was focused intently on her face when she turned to him. The room was in shadows, since she hadn’t turned on the overhead light.
Her furniture almost filled the smallish bedroom—solid, mission-style pieces in light-stained wood, accented with hand-pieced quilts and primitive art. An iron lamp with a three-way bulb sat on the nightstand, turned on the lowest setting to provide a soft glow. Just enough to let her see that Mike’s expression was torn between desire and concern.
“Are you sure about this?”
She slipped her hands beneath the hem of his sweater, letting her palms glide across the warm, smooth skin beneath. She felt his muscles tighten spasmodically in response to her touch, even as her own went liquid. “You aren’t the only one who’s hungry.”
Mike groaned. “I’ve never been strong on either nobility or self-discipline. So if you aren’t…”
She lifted her mouth to his, smothering his reservations in a kiss that let him know she was fully aware of what she was doing. She had made her choice, as uncharacteristic as it was. She wouldn’t be changing her mind tonight.
His sweater fell to the floor, and Catherine caught her breath in response to what she had revealed. The sports and exercise that Mike enjoyed so much paid off in a firm, broad chest and a flat, taut stomach. The only flaw was a jagged, slightly raised four-inch scar that ran along the top of his rib cage. Yet, rather than detract from his appeal, the scar only added a new level of interest.
“Long story,” he murmured, when she touched the scar curiously. “It involves a mountain bike, a patch of mud and a possum.”
“I’d love to hear it,” she said, and raised her mouth to his again. “Later.”
His hands weren’t quite steady when he
helped her out of her jacket. She felt the tremors again when he fumbled at the fastening of her skirt. She liked that. She didn’t want to think this was just another Saturday night for him.
It had been a long time since she’d been naked in front of anyone other than her doctor—and even then she was semimodestly covered with a paper gown. She stayed fairly slim, more from genetics than diet, but she didn’t work out as religiously as Mike did. And while thirty certainly wasn’t old, she didn’t have the body of a teenager anymore, either.
She felt her face flame as Mike unfastened the first button of her shirt. “I’m a little nervous, I think,” she confessed.
“You’re nervous?” He gave her a crooked grin that made her heart clench. “I’ve never done anything like this with a professor before. I’m a little worried that I won’t make the grade.”
She smiled faintly, letting the blouse slide from her shoulders to leave her standing in nothing but a nude-colored bra and matching panties. “I doubt very much that you have anything to worry about on that count.”
He pressed a kiss at the corner of her mouth, his hands making a leisurely cruise from her shoulders down her back to her hips. “Let’s not either of us worry about anything tonight,” he murmured against her lips. “Let’s just enjoy.”
Because that sounded like an excellent plan to her, she pushed any remaining reservations to the back of her mind and wrapped her arms around his neck. The move brought their bare bellies together, and the contact made her knees go weak. He still wore his slacks, and the fabric was crisp against her legs, making her impatient to get rid of them.
Whether because of her admission of nerves or because he was simply taking his own advice to savor this experience, Mike took his time. His hands rested very lightly on her hips as he concentrated on kissing her. Their mouths fused, probed, then separated only long enough to allow them to explore a new angle.