heart. But mostly she needed him to fill the emptiness she felt every day of her life but refused to acknowledge because she didn’t want to be weak. In Valentine’s arms, it felt okay to finally confess to herself that she couldn’t do it all alone—that occasionally she needed someone to lean on. Someone she could count on.
She knew she could count on Valentine.
She drew back and studied his face in the moonlight. When had it become the most beautiful thing in her life? Without a word, she leaned in and kissed him. She kissed him like she had been dreaming about kissing him since he first kissed her. She kissed him like a passionate woman who knew what she wanted and was willing to go after it. But she wanted more than just sex from Valentine. She wanted all he was willing to give.
And he seemed to be willing to give a lot. As soon as her lips touched his, a groan escaped his throat and his mouth and tongue became just as hungry as hers. His long, skilled fingers dug into her waist as he pulled her closer, surrounding her in the hard-muscled heat of his bare chest and arms.
One kiss melted into another and another as Reba tried to get her fill of Valentine. But the more she took, the more she wanted. As they kissed, she slid her hands down to the part of him that she had wanted to touch for a very long time. His butt felt as good as it looked and she couldn’t help palming his cotton-covered cheeks and squeezing the tight muscles. His groan vibrated through her mouth and he flexed his hips, rubbing his wonderful hardness against her needy softness. She whimpered and rubbed back.
He tore away from the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, his breath pumping hard and fast. “Reba, we need to stop, baby.”
She loved the way he called her baby. “I don’t want to stop.”
He stared into her eyes. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
He gave her one more consuming kiss before he scooped her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing and carried her down the path to her cottage. She helped him open the door, and he carried her inside, then kicked the door shut. Once in the bedroom, he set her down by the foot of the bed and started to pull off her nightgown.
She placed her hand over his and stopped him. “Turn off the light first.”
He drew back, his eyes hot with desire but also understanding. “No, Reba. If we’re going to do this, then we need to see each other as we really are. There’s no more hiding.” Then before she could object again, he swept the nightgown over her head. Standing there just in her panties, she had the strong desire to grab her grandma’s quilt and cover herself. Instead, she tried not to fidget as he stepped back and his gaze wandered over her.
His breath rushed out. “Holy crap . . . damn. Maybe we better turn off the light.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What?”
His gaze lifted. There was no disgust. Just a smothering heat that scorched right through her.
“I don’t know what God had in mind when he made your gorgeous body,” he said in a raspy whisper. “But at the moment it feels like he made it to tempt me beyond my endurance. I’m afraid if we don’t turn out the lights, I’m going to embarrass myself. That would be very uncool.”
The man certainly knew how to make an insecure woman feel secure.
She lowered her arms and stepped closer. “Cool is overrated. Hot is a much better temperature.”
She had never undressed a man before and was thankful all she had to deal with was a pair of black boxers. When they were pooled at his feet, she stepped back and couldn’t help the swift intake of breath. Talk about hot. Valentine was the definition of the word. And she wanted to touch every square inch of that hotness.
So she did.
She slid her hands up his washboard stomach, traced a finger between each rib, cupped his hard pecs in her palms, and flicked his nipples to tight nubs. She caressed the slopes of his broad shoulders and cradled the swells of his biceps, before she let her hand move lower.
“Reba,” he said in a desire-thickened voice. “I swear if you touch me, I’m going to lose