His arms came around her, hauling her close. She pressed herself against him, wanting to feel the heat and strength of him. This was like their kiss last week, yet better, because this time there weren’t going to be any interruptions. This time they could-

Her brain froze. She couldn’t actually be thinking about making love with Jack. That would be five kinds of crazy. Their relationship was complicated enough. They hadn’t worked out the details of their past, let alone figured out their present. She was living in his house with her nine-year-old son.

“Katie,” he breathed against her mouth, then settled his hands on her waist.

The pressure was familiar, and she reacted without thinking. She shifted, moving as he moved, stretching out her legs, sliding toward the wall, all the while still kissing him, tasting his familiar male essence, so sweet and tempting. She lowered herself onto the cot while he settled next to her. His leg slid between hers. Her leg came up, her knee resting on his hip. Arms slipped around each other until they were pressed together intimately, facing each other.

It was a position they’d assumed a hundred times before. Maybe even a thousand. As teenagers, they’d often lain together like this. Kissing, talking, touching noses together and laughing. Their bodies had ached with desire, his growing hard, hers damp and yielding. Yet they’d never once given in.

Jack broke the kiss and looked at her. His eyes were dark and unreadable. She didn’t know what he was thinking and she wasn’t about to ask. She could hear her heart pounding in the silence-he could probably hear it, too. Then one corner of his mouth tilted up.

“Some things never change,” he murmured. “Seems to me we’ve been in this position before.”

She swallowed and nodded, but didn’t speak. She couldn’t. She was afraid of what she would say. Part of her knew that this was insane, but that voice was small and easily ignored. The rest of her was screaming for Jack to touch her everywhere. She was practically vibrating with desire. Her blood raced; her breasts ached. She wanted to believe it was because she hadn’t made love in a long time, but she had a bad feeling that it was much more about the man lying next to her than any biological need.

“I want you,” he told her, stroking her cheek with his fingertips. “What do you want?”

He was giving her a chance to escape. She knew that she should probably take it, because making love would change everything. Yet the thought of getting up and walking away from him brought her physical pain. So she gave in to the foolish need and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him closer. Then she breathed his name.

Jack responded by shifting her onto her back and bending over her, brushing her lips with his. He moved slowly, tenderly, back and forth, driving her crazy. She clutched at him, grabbing his upper arms to urge him on. She parted her mouth. She stroked his lower lip with her tongue. He ignored her and continued his painfully slow, chaste kisses. Back and forth, back and forth.

Finally he touched the tip of his tongue to hers. She punished him by biting gently, making them both moan. Then he was kissing her deeply and she was able to lose herself in him. They explored each other, circling, tasting, learning remembered favorite games of chase and tag.

While their lips clung, he moved his hand to her belly and walked his fingers up to the first button on her shirt. Once again her heart began to hammer an increasing rhythm. She wanted him to go faster, not slower. She wanted to be naked and have him inside her, yet she wanted the moment to stretch on forever.

He moved with the sureness of a man who was comfortable undressing a woman. When he pulled open her shirt and rested his hand over her left breast, pure pleasure rippled through her. Even through the thin layer of fabric that was her bra, she felt his fingers and their warm caress. She arched into the embrace. Her nipples hardened, and when he touched the puckered tip, she gasped.

Something hard and masculine jutted into her hip in an answering response. He was aroused, she thought with pleasure. He wanted her.

Jack drew back enough to pull her into a sitting position. He tugged off her shirt, then reached behind her for the fastening of her bra. When the lacy fabric fell to her lap, he stared at her full breasts.

“Perfect,” he breathed, cupping her in his hands.

Even as he stared deeply into her eyes, his thumbs brushed against her nipples. She couldn’t look away and she couldn’t help reacting. She parted her lips and gave a soft moan.

“Again,” he demanded, teasing the tight buds and making her writhe.

A collection of nerves formed a one-way connection from her breasts to that most feminine place between her legs. With each brush of his thumb and fingers, she dampened and readied. An ache began, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

He moved his hands to her back and lowered her onto the cot again. She brushed her bra to the floor. Jack jerked his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans then quickly unfastened the buttons. When he shrugged free of the garment, she stared at his bare chest, at the hard muscles defined beneath a light dusting of dark hair.

“I never saw you before,” he said, lowering himself until his chest barely touched her nipples. “All those years ago. You’d let me slip my hand under your shirt, but I wasn’t allowed to look.”

He moved back and forth, teasing her sensitive buds with the tickling friction of his chest hair. She shivered, nearly unable to bear the erotic caress.

“I wondered what you’d be like,” he continued, his voice low and hoarse. “The color of your nipples, the shape of your breasts, how they’d shift in my hands and how they felt pressed against my chest.”

His words sucked her into the past, to a time when she’d been scared to do much more than kiss the boy who had stolen her heart. She remembered the thrill of having him slip his hand up her shirt and how she’d thought about doing more. Now, with him on top of her, their bare skin brushing and touching, she wondered how she’d resisted him.

“I guess I had more backbone then.” She managed to speak.

He grinned. “I like you better spineless.”

He shifted, kneeling between her thighs, then bent and took her left nipple in his mouth. His tongue swept over her. Katie clutched his head, holding him to her. She cried his name as his fingers matched the movements on her other breast. It was too perfect, she thought, feeling herself sink deeper into the madness of passion. Deep tugs low in her belly responded to his gentle nibbles. When he sucked, she felt her hips arch. Her legs moved restlessly. Tension grew. If he touched her, even for a second, she knew she would climax instantly. The aching was unbearable.

She dug her fingers into his hair and inhaled the scent of him. It was too much. She couldn’t believe how aroused she was, and so quickly. She’d always been something of a slow starter, requiring concentrated effort to get ready. But it had only been a few minutes and she was so prepared that if they didn’t do something soon, she was going to explode.

Finally he straightened and stepped off the cot. He tugged off his boots and socks, then shoved down his jeans and briefs. His arousal sprang free, hard and ready, jutting toward her. She studied his body-the broad shoulders, narrow hips, long legs. He was everything she’d ever imagined a man to be.

He reached for her boots and pulled them off. The rest of her clothes followed. He loomed over her, looking at her. In a moment of self-consciousness she pressed her hand against her stomach to cover the silvery lines that were a legacy of her pregnancy. She was short and curvy and far from model perfect.

Jack pushed her hands away and bent to kiss the slender marks. “How could you think I wouldn’t want all of you?” he asked.

His casual acceptance made her eyes burn with unexpected tears. “Good line,” she said softly.

“Not a line. The truth.”

He returned to the cot, sliding next to her. His mouth lowered onto hers while his fingers moved between her thighs.

She told herself to be relaxed and adult about the whole thing. Control was important. She took deep breaths and swore to herself that she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself.

She was wrong.

The second he slipped into her waiting dampness and found that single spot of surrender, she actually screamed. Out loud. No doubt the horses were startled. Katie felt heat flare on her cheeks, but before she could try to explain or apologize, he was touching her in a circling rhythm that made her both tremble and tense.

She clutched him, needing to hang on. She wanted to explain that it wasn’t usually like this for her. That she could be unresponsive on occasion and for him not to take it personally. But speaking would have required more effort than she was willing to make. Because his fingers were pure magic and she didn’t want to think about anything else except the steady movements around and over, drawing her deeper and deeper into herself. Closer to that place of perfect pleasure.

Even as he kissed her, his fingers slipped inside her waiting warmth. He stroked slowly, making her legs fall open even more. Then he returned to the core of her femininity and began the dance again.

But this time was different. Her feeble attempts at control were useless. She was so incredibly close that she wasn’t able to prepare herself. One minute she was trying to catch her breath and the next the world dissolved into a million wonderful sensations. Everything felt exactly right-as if this was what she’d been born to do. Be with Jack, have him touch her and take her to paradise.

Even as she shivered from the last lingering contractions of her climax, he moved over her. She reached down to guide him inside. He filled her, stretching her slightly, making her draw her knees back. Their arms came around each other, and his mouth lowered to hers.