with such heat neither cared that the fire had burned low. She pleasured him on her knees, slowly savoring his girth, size, and sharp hisses of lusty response. When he could breathe again, her reward was an oral tribute so erotic, she grabbed fistfuls of the sheet, cried out, and broke into soaring pieces again.
Now he knelt above her and she was so dazzled and overwhelmed by Garrett McCray, she wondered if she should change her name because she was having difficulty remembering who she was. Reaching up, she lightly cupped his jaw before leveraging up to give him a searing kiss. And they began again. Kisses, touches, whispers, sighs. She stroked him with a firm hand. He teased the wet flesh of her core. Breathing hard, she backed away and reached into the drawer of her nightstand and withdrew a sponge.
He asked, “May I?”
She handed it over, and he inserted it with such finesse, her hips rose greedily in invitation. Moments later, their night entered a new realm. He was thick and gloriously hard, and had she the power, he’d stay right where he was for the rest of her days. The pace he set was slow at first, but as the desire rose and their bodies were spurred by desire’s call, the rhythm increased. He gave, she took, until the bed shook and their verbal cries and calls became a lovers’ passionate symphony. Spring couldn’t believe such pleasure was possible, but another orgasm gathered like clouds of a storm, and when the lightning struck and the thunder ripped her apart, she screamed his name.
Roaring, he shattered, too, hips moving like pistons until he had nothing left to give. Slumping forward, he gathered her in and pulled her atop him so as not to crush her. They held each other until their breathing slowed and the world returned.
Later, watching him sleep, Spring admitted that for a woman intent upon walking through life alone, having him in her bed may have been a mistake. He’d left her feeling treasured, desired, something she’d never experienced before. It awakened a long-buried part of herself to the possibility of what could be, and that scared her.
Chapter Eight
Spring slipped out of bed as quietly as possible. There were horses to feed and because she’d never had a man spend the night before, she had no idea how to navigate the morning after. With those things in mind, she tiptoed around the cold bedroom, gathering her clothes and everything else she needed to start the day, and left him sleeping.
When her chores were completed, she entered the kitchen and found McCray at the stove cooking breakfast. Still unsure how she was supposed to proceed, she said, “Morning, McCray.” Removing her coat and hat, she hung them on the peg.
“Morning, Spring.” He seemed to sense her mood. “Something wrong?”
She considered lying but chose to go with the truth. “I’ve never had anyone stay overnight and . . .”
“Is this awkward for you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you regret last night?”
She shook her head.
“Had a good time?”
She gave him her first smile of the day.
“Good. Then let’s just let the morning unfold and not worry about what to do. Unless you’d rather I go back to town.”
“No.”
His uncomplicated solution to the situation drained much of her unease and she wondered if that, too, was part of his art. She noticed his slight limp as he moved around. “Your leg bothering you still?”
“It’s a bit stiff after being put through my paces last night.”
Embarrassment heated her cheeks. “Should I apologize?”
“Not on your life. I had a good time, too.”
Memories of last night rose, bringing back the feel of his hands and the power of his kisses. She remembered how it felt when he filled her and the many ways his mouth made her moan. His claim of knowing his way around a woman’s body hadn’t been an idle boast.
“You keep looking at me that way and we’ll be having each other for breakfast instead of bacon and these eggs.”
Caught, she smiled and looked away. “I think breakfast is best for now.”
“Pity.”
His ability to spark desire with just a phrase or a glance was also new for her. She had no idea there were men with such skills walking around in the world. How many other women were going through life thinking sex was something to be endured or dealt with hurriedly because of ham-handed rubes? Last night’s glorious feast of passion and pleasure had been prepared by a brown-skinned wizard who’d left