had always been right there in her head and in her heart. She sang about one-and-only loves a lot, because she had found hers years ago.
“Only with you,” she repeated as she slowly slid down the zipper of his jeans and reached for him.
At the glide of her fingers across his arousal, he gasped and reached for her wrists, cuffing them with a grip that stilled any movement.
“Okay, darlin’, you’ve had your fun,” he said. “Now it’s my turn.”
“But I was just getting started,” she protested, laughing at his refusal to leave her in control.
“And now I am,” he countered.
Before she knew it, he had flipped her over until she rested beneath him on the soft, sweet grass. Somehow he managed to keep her hands neatly immobilized above her head, while his free hand began its own magical journey over fabric, resulting in chafing caresses that left her skin sensitive and burning. He didn’t waste time on finesse. When he wanted to touch bare skin, buttons popped, scattering everywhere. Her bra clasp was dismissed as easily, and then his tongue was soothing the very skin he’d inflamed only seconds before.
Her nipples ached with the pleasure of it, and that was even before he took each one into his mouth and sucked, sending waves of delight rippling through her. Her hips, pinned to the ground by the weight of him, bucked ever so slightly, causing yet another delicious friction.
“We’ve still got on too damned many clothes,” Harlan Patrick murmured in frustration, freeing her hands so he could use both of his to dispense first with his own clothes and then hers.
When she was naked, the soft, sultry breeze kissed her skin and made her nipples pucker just as his touches had.
“You are the most gorgeous creature God ever made,” Harlan Patrick said, his heated gaze studying her as if she were brand-new to him.
“I have stretch marks,” she protested.
“From carrying my baby,” he said, touching the faint white marks on her belly with gentle reverence. “That only makes you more beautiful.”
She grinned. “How could any woman not love you? You always know the right thing to say.”
“I always tell the truth,” he insisted.
“Truth or the view through rose-colored glasses, I appreciate it,” she said.
Even though she was the one who’d urged a slower pace, she reached out to stroke him in a gesture guaranteed to shock him into action.
“Now who’s impatient?” he taunted.
“Please, Harlan Patrick, make love to me. Make love to me now.”
“With pleasure, darlin’. With pleasure.”
With the wicked skill of someone who knew her body intimately, he skimmed touches over perspiration-slick flesh, then dipped into the moist folds at the apex of her thighs, finding the tiny nub that sent her off into rippling waves of ecstasy.
Only then, when she was still trembling in the aftershocks, did he part her legs and ever so slowly enter her. The reunion was a stunningly sweet reminder of the past, a swirl of present-tense sensations and then an urgent journey into the future.
Past, present, future—love was there for all of it, making the throbbing tension and exquisite release seem unique to this moment, even as it echoed a haunting familiarity and held the promise of unending repetition.
Curved securely into Harlan Patrick’s arms, Laurie wanted to believe in now and forever. She wanted the fantasy to last, but in no time at all reality intruded.
“Marry me,” Harlan Patrick whispered, his hand resting against the curve of her breast, his voice thick with need. “Marry me, Laurie.”
This time it was her tears that fell, splashing against his bare skin as her heart split in two yet again.
“I can’t,” she said, her voice choked. “Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said? It wouldn’t work.”
“How can you say that? We’re perfect together. We’ve always belonged together.”
Icy cold and trembling, she pulled away and began frantically gathering her clothes, yanking them on with haphazard abandon until she was dressed, but still quivering in front of him. When she couldn’t get her blouse closed because of the missing buttons, he silently handed her his shirt. She put it on, then tied the ends with trembling fingers.
“Explain it to me, Laurie. Tell me why it won’t work, when we’re so good together.”
“Like this, we’re perfect together,” she agreed. “But the rest?” She gave an impatient, all-encompassing wave of her hand. “It hasn’t changed, Harlan Patrick. I’m going back on tour tomorrow and you’re staying here.”
His mouth firmed into a grim line. “I’ll get used to being separated.”