Safe In His Arms - Vicki Lewis Thompson Page 0,23
and the pan for the spaghetti sauce. Then she ran into her bedroom and changed into a green and blue patterned dress that was on the slinky side and looked sort of hostess-like.
Her doorbell rang before she’d decided on shoes. Shoving her feet into some sparkly flip-flops, she took a deep breath, left her bedroom, and went to answer the door.
He stood in the hall holding a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers. His silver gaze was intent, his smile a little tense. She hoped to hell he wasn’t having second thoughts, too.
Her heart thumped wildly. They were about to be completely alone for the first time since they’d met. So much hinged on tonight. So much.
He hoisted his gifts. “I know I’m a walking cliché, but—”
“No, it’s sweet. Come in.” She stepped back and he walked through her door, into her world. She was so nervous she could barely breathe. “Let me . . . let me take those.”
He handed her the bouquet and the wine. “You look beautiful, Valerie.”
“It’s just—” She caught herself before she dismissed his compliment. He’d made it with a soft reverence that told her it was more than an offhand remark. Even though he’d moved in circles where women wore designer clothes, her quickly chosen outfit had dazzled him. That touched her. “Thank you.”
He took off his hat. “Where should I put this?”
“On the coffee table’s fine.”
He set it there without spending any time looking at the table, or the sofa and chairs, or any part of her living room, including her scarf wall art. His hot gaze came back immediately to rest on her. “Could you put those down for a minute?”
“Sure.” Her heart beat faster as she laid the bouquet on the coffee table next to his hat and set the wine bottle beside the bouquet.
“I know you have dinner going. I can smell spaghetti sauce. But I need—”
“Me, too.” She stepped into his arms with a moan of happiness. “Oh, me, too.”
His hungry mouth on hers swept away her misgivings. He was desperate for her, and she was equally desperate for him. He crushed her to him, sending her racing pulse into overdrive. Yes, oh, yes.
Lifting his mouth from hers, he gripped her tight, as if afraid that ending the kiss would make her vanish. “Can dinner wait?”
She had no idea, but the ache building deep in her body answered for her. “Yes.”
“Good, because I can’t.”
“Come with me.” Wiggling out of his arms, she caught his hand and led him back to her bedroom. The sun hadn’t set, and light filtered through her gauzy curtains, bathing the room in a golden glow. There would be no hiding in the dark this first time.
She didn’t care. His obvious need for her made her bold. And puts you in control, whispered a little voice. She ignored it. Turning back to him, she pulled her dress over her head and tossed it aside.
He sucked in a breath. “Hold it. Don’t move.”
She paused, but she couldn’t be completely still. She quivered in anticipation of what would come next, and what would happen after that, and how it would be when they finally . . .
“I don’t want to forget how you look. You’re outlined in gold, Valerie. You shimmer.”
“Because I’m shaking.”
“So am I. I want you so much that it scares me.”
“I’m a little scared, too.” She stepped toward him. “But the closer you are, the less I’m afraid.” She rested her palms on his chest and felt the rapid beat of his heart.
His voice was husky as he wrapped his arms around her. “Then I’d better stay real close.”
“Yes, please,” she murmured. Holding his gaze, she began unfastening the snaps down the front of his shirt. “Otherwise, how can I undress you?”
Excitement flashed in his eyes. “You want to do that?”
“Very much.” She finished with the snaps and pulled the shirttails out. “Remember on hot mornings when we’d both get sweaty?” She stroked upward from his waistband, massaging his sculpted abs and muscled chest.
He trembled beneath her fingertips. “I remember.” His gaze locked with hers. “I’d watch a trickle of sweat slide into your cleavage and wonder how I’d ever manage to keep my hands to myself.”
“And I longed for you to take off your shirt so I could see these manly pecs.” She moved her hands in circles, loving the springy texture of his chest hair.
“You could’ve asked. I would have been happy to oblige.”
“You could have touched me. I would