the sensitive inside of her fingers. He began to suck, drawing her flesh into his hot mouth, and she squirmed, the place between her thighs throbbing.
“Oh, God,” she said as he switched to her other breast. His fingers toyed with the wet nipple, rolling and squeezing. Desire dizzied her as he continued to play with her breasts, torturing her nipples with soft licks, spiking her need with the edge of his teeth.
Her hips rocked against his pelvis. His rigid erection fit against her, providing friction—except not enough.
Anxiety rose in her—not the same kind as before, but a fretful sense of frustration. It had to be now, she thought. Right this second she had the chance to recover what had been lost. But satisfaction only hovered, and she was afraid if she didn’t find it now, she never would.
A hoarse moan sounded from deep in her throat. Her fingers tightened on his skull, pleading wordlessly for a different touch, a stronger stroke, something...something more. “Gage.”
He lifted his head from her breast. “Shall we move—”
“No. No. Please.”
“Shh,” he said, his gaze seeming to take in the situation. “It’s all right.”
“Please.” She wiggled against him, aggravation threatening to splinter the need, just when it had to be honed.
“Here, baby, here.” He slid lower in the chair, adjusting their fit. When she moaned again, he slipped a hand beneath the waistband at the back of her pants, then her panties. His hot palm against her bottom jolted her heart, and jolted her forward just that infinitesimal, necessary distance. Rightthererightthererightthere, she thought as he took her mouth in an aggressive kiss. His erection pressed upward, his free hand came between them. Over her pants, he ground the heel against the top of her sex.
Pleasure layered over pleasure. She rose on it, like a surfer being taken by a wave. Her arms circled Gage’s neck and she thrust her tongue against his as she bore down on his next upward thrust.
Instead of falling down the face of the wave, she flew right off the top of it, her body shaking against Gage as the release shuddered through her. A flush broke over her skin and tears stung as a succession of emotions coursed through her: physical bliss, mental relief, unadulterated joy. Something that had been lost was found.
And then she came to herself, and the reality of what that recovery had cost struck her, hard. She was half naked in Gage’s arms, her forehead pressed to his shoulder, one of his hands sweeping up and down her spine. She’d...she’d led her pen pal, her friend, into a physical intimacy that might have ruined that other relationship with him that she cherished.
She felt selfish and awkward and horribly embarrassed. “This is terrible,” she said, scrambling to get off him. Not daring to look at his face, she swiped up her shirt and quickly yanked it over her head and shoved her hands through the sleeves. Lace caught her eye and she snatched up her bra, stuffing it into the front pocket of her pants.
“Skye,” Gage began, his voice gentle.
“No.” She backed away from him, addressing the neutral zone of his kneecaps. “You shouldn’t... I shouldn’t...” Argh. “‘All for you,’ you said. ‘Only for you.’ Everything’s...imbalanced now.” Ruined. She’d let her stupid physical problems mess up the best male-female relationship she’d ever had.
“Not imbalanced,” Gage said, his voice wry. “Would it help to know you made a liar out of me?”
Her gaze jumped to his.
He straightened in the chair and pushed his fingers through his hair. “You’re not the only one who got off, baby. And that hasn’t happened to me with my jeans on since I was about fourteen years old. Does that make you feel better?”
Skye shook her head as she continued to back away. It was time to go, because the only thing that would make her feel better was to find out this was all just one of her bad dreams.
* * *
POLLY WAS SEARCHING for her car keys when a rap sounded on her front door. She knew that rap. Sighing, she considered pretending she wasn’t home. But that wouldn’t work. Teague would have seen her Volkswagen Beetle parked in the driveway behind her cottage.
He knocked again. And like metal filings to a magnet, she found herself drawn to the door. As she pulled it open, he waved a bakery bag in her face. “Your favorite muffins.”
“You shouldn’t have,” she said, breathing in a scent so delicious she automatically stepped back so he