Part 23 (1/2)

”I'm going to take such good care of you.”

”Sam, please, kiss me. Please, I-”

He kissed her again and again, hot, wet, abandoned kisses. Luscious, deep, swirling kisses. He kissed her until she was gasping for breath. But he didn't give her time to breathe, and she didn't care. She was aching, melting . . . burning with a need fueled by a staggering, almost blinding happiness after so many long hours of heartache.

Her hands shook as they tugged at his clothes, and she made a tiny, frantic sound when her efforts got her nowhere. Finally, she simply clung to him as he swiftly undressed them both, peeling the clothes from her trembling body, then tearing off his s.h.i.+rt at the same time he kicked his jeans and briefs aside. His gaze held hers as he lowered her to the bed. Then, as he came down to lie on top of her, his eyes closed, his breath catching and a look of almost tortured pleasure crossing his features at the first full contact of their heated flesh. Settling onto her, he whispered her name, and she wrapped him close, sinking into the mattress beneath the marvelous, solid weight of his body.

He was warm and hard and male. He was hers. And she needed him desperately, needed him inside her that very instant, before she died of this terrible, throbbing emptiness. But he was determined, it seemed, to set her on fire. That's what his hands told her as they raced over her, stroking her, molding every curve and hollow. He said, it, too, in words-dark, erotic words muttered hoa.r.s.ely against her lips, her thighs, the curve of her belly. Finally, when his mouth opened over the taut peak of one breast, his cheeks going hollow beneath her fingers as he drew her inside, she cried out.

”Sam, please! I can't wait, I-”

”It's gonna happen, Katie. Right now. All of it.”

And then he was kneeling between her legs, draping her thighs over his, and pulling her down the bed toward him. He lifted her until she felt the velvet-smooth head of his erection testing the wet heat at the entrance to her pa.s.sage. When he didn't complete the union, she let out a throaty, almost agonized moan.

”Easy, honey,” he soothed.

Yet he held back, and she opened her eyes to see him watching his hands as they traveled slowly up her thighs across her belly, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her shoulders, then, just as slowly down again.

”Sam, please, you're-”

”Shh, it's okay. Feel me . . . there?”

”Yes!”

”I'm not going anywhere. But I need a minute to do this right. And, honey, that's the only way I'm going to do it.”

She couldn't imagine anything being any more right. But then she began to feel it: that s.h.i.+mmering warmth, emanating from the palms of his strong, long-fingered hands. Like the first flickering tongues of flame, it began to lick at her skin, sensitizing it, bringing it to life. And she realized suddenly, with a small, startled gasp, that his hands flowing over her were telling her that he'd meant what he said: It was going to happen, right now-all of it. He intended not only to make love to her but to heal her. He wanted, needed, to do both at once- never mind whether or not it was even possible.

With her body completely vulnerable, she lay panting and shaking, her hands clutching the bedspread, watching the sweat appear on his forehead and upper lip. His concentration was total, an astonis.h.i.+ng thing to witness, as his hands continued to move over her with exquisite care and deliberation. The warmth built slowly, sinking into her, sinking deep inside to awaken her soul the way he'd awakened her body; it grew until, finally, it equaled the liquid heat of arousal that he'd kindled in her.