Her skin was so soft, so sweet smelling, one kiss wasn't enough.
He wanted more.
And not just more of her incredible body. He wanted more of her. More information about what made her tick. More stories about how she'd grown from a little girl into this incredible woman.
“Was it hard to start a business?”
She shifted again in obvious surprise at his question and her hair shifted back to cover her neck. “I thought we weren't asking questions?”
She was right. He'd asked for fun. And nothing but. If he were being smart, he'd simply strip her clothes off and make love to her, no more words, no more getting inside her head. Her heart.
But it wasn't enough.
“I want to know more about you.”
The silence stretched out between them, the crackling of the fire and the waves washing up on the shore not nearly big enough to fill it.
Finally, she softly said, “I was a little scared.”
It took him a long moment to realize she was answering his earlier question, rather than commenting on his wanting to know her. Because she had to know, just as he did, that it was a really bad idea to talk like this, to get in even deeper with each other.
“But even though I was scared,” she continued, “I knew I would regret it forever if I didn't go for what I wanted.”
He wasn't ready for the way her words settled themselves way down deep in his gut and was glad when she didn't let them linger.
“I have Lily to thank for so much of my success. I can't even calculate how many hours she sat there on the floor and clapped and cheered while my dolls gave imaginary fashion shows. And she was such a sensation in my final show for school, and then my first show on my own.”
“I love Lily too,” he said, “but I'm not asking about her. I'm asking about you.”
“Well, here's something you should know about me.” She moved out of his arms and reached for a stick and the bag of marshmallows. “I have a major sweet tooth.”
He shouldn't be feeling disappointed at her clear switch away from his probing. He should be thanking her for keeping them in safe territory.
Fuck. Who was he kidding? They hadn't been anywhere near safe territory since the moment he rang her doorbell and kissed her.
She handed him a long stick and a couple of marshmallows and side by side they held them over the flames. A minute later they were assembling their s'mores. The sound she made when the sugar and chocolate hit her tongue was almost enough to make him jealous.
“That good, huh?”
She opened her eyes back up and smiled at him. “Only one thing is better.”
She pressed her lips against his and he tasted the lingering sweetness on her tongue.
“What about you?” she whispered against his lips.
What was it about kissing her that made him lose hold of his brain, he wondered as he repeated, “Me?”
“Do you like it?”
“I love kissing you.”
She pressed her lips back to his, harder this time. When she pulled away, she said, “Good. But I was talking about your dessert.”
He looked at the s'more in his hand as if it was the first time he'd seen it.
“Take a bite,” she insisted.
Food had never been all that important to him before, simply something he took care of to keep his energy up. And it had certainly never been sensual.