the way he’d ended things between them, the rejection stung all the same. Probably because there had been a time when Rachel had eagerly welcomed him into the tiny apartment that had been her home, he reasoned. Of course, they had been lovers at the time, and she had believed herself to be in love with him.
As eager as he was for answers, it was obvious she was exhausted. “Maybe you should get some rest, and I’ll come back in the morning.”
“No,” Rachel snapped. “I’d just as soon answer your questions now.”
Mac hesitated a moment. “Then you’d better sit down before you fall down.” He motioned to the old-fashioned porch swing where he’d sat earlier to wait for her. “You’re dead on your feet.”
“I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”
Mac recognized how she avoided touching him. Still, it didn’t stop him from noticing the way her nurse’s uniform rode up when she sat down or her efforts to tug the hem down toward her knees. Mac couldn’t help remembering other evenings when she’d been pleased to see him waiting for her at the end of a long day. Or how quickly her fatigue melted beneath his kisses. They would barely make it inside the apartment before they’d be reaching for each other—hot, hungry, insatiable.
“I suppose you’re wondering how this could have happened,” Rachel began, looking everywhere but at him.
“If by ‘this’ you’re referring to your getting pregnant, I have a pretty good idea. I was there remember? And I haven’t forgotten anything about the time we spent together.” Which was true. He hadn’t been able to forget Rachel—despite his best efforts to do so.
“I was talking about the fact that we always used protection.”
“Darling, we both know there’s only one form of birth control that’s guaranteed. Abstinence—which is something we didn’t come anywhere close to exercising.” Quite the contrary, Mac thought. During the month they had been together they had made love countless times, never seeming to be able to get enough of each other. And there had been one particularly steamy afternoon in late August just before a rainstorm had flooded the city. The desire between them had escalated along with the high temperatures that day until every touch, every glance, every breath had fed the gnawing ache inside them both. “It was that afternoon of the big rainstorm, wasn’t it? The one that caused a power outage in the city.”
As though it were only yesterday, the images came rushing back to Mac….
“The snowballs were a great idea,” he had told Rachel as they’d strolled lazily down the sidewalk in the unrelenting heat. Waves of heat shimmered from the paved street, and Mac swallowed another mouthful of the chocolate-and-cream-flavored ice. Despite the fact that it was already past six in the evening and thunder rumbled in the distance, the sun continued to beat down upon them.
They turned the corner onto the street that led to her apartment, and Rachel gasped at the rush of hot air. “I can barely breathe,” she complained. “Why aren’t you withering, too?”
Mac chuckled. “SEAL training, darling,” he told her and pitched his empty paper cup into the trash bin while they waited for the traffic light to change so they could cross the street. “You don’t know the meaning of hot until you’ve spent a week baking out in the desert.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” she said dryly. Scooping a few fingers of the ice-only snowball she’d opted for from her cup, she began bathing her neck and collarbone with the swiftly melting ice shavings.
Mac’s mouth went dry at the sight of the water sliding down her throat, past the open neck of her prim uniform and disappearing between her breasts. It didn’t matter that they had made love less than two hours ago when she’d returned from work, his body responded immediately.
Rachel stilled. “Mac,” she admonished, her voice thready. She clutched the cup to her chest.
Removing the cup from her hand, he grazed the side of her breast with his fingers. Desire shot through him like a missile as he watched the answering flare of hunger in her gray eyes. He tossed the cup into the trash bin. “Come on,” he all but growled the command. Grabbing her hand, they raced down the long block toward her apartment. And while an observer might have attributed their mad dash to the fat drops of rain that began to pepper the city like bullets, he and Rachel both knew the urgency had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with their fierce need for each other.
They rushed up the stairs. Rachel’s hand trembled, and she dropped the key. Mac scooped it up. He slammed the key into the lock. And when the door opened, he ushered Rachel inside. The door had barely closed when Rachel reached for him.
“This is insane,” she told him.
“Yeah,” Mac agreed on a groan as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. When she brushed her hand down the front of his jeans, he thought he’d die right then and there. Dropping the keys to the floor, he caught Rachel’s questing fingers. “Darling, you’ve got to slow down.”
“I don’t want to slow down,” she told him and pressed her lips against his neck.
Mac switched positions so that she was the one caged against the door. With her wrists imprisoned in his fist, he lifted them over her head. His body throbbed at the anticipation and excitement in her eyes. He dipped his head, heard her moan as he used his mouth to follow the damp trail left by the ice and rain. With teeth and tongue and lips, he sampled her neck, her collarbone. Using his free hand, he began unbuttoning the front of her uniform. When he reached the snap at the front of her bra, he twisted it open and tasted her flesh.
“Mac,” she whispered urgently, struggling to free her wrists.
He circled first one nipple, then the other with his tongue. And when he took one rosy crest into his mouth, she moaned again and pulled her hands free. She grabbed his face, pulled his mouth up to hers.
And she kissed him deep, her tongue sparring with his, her never-still fingers raced over him. When she reached for his belt and fought with the snap of his jeans, Mac tore his mouth free. “Rachel,” he gasped her name. Realizing how close to the edge he was, he sucked air into his lungs. “Darling, I’m about ten steps ahead of you,” he explained. “You need to give me a minute to slow down so you can catch up with me.”
She looked up at him out of eyes hot with desire. “I’ve got news for you, Lieutenant Commander,” she said, leveling him with a smile that was pure sin. She wiggled her fingers free and reached for the tab of his zipper. “You’re the one who has to catch up with me.”
Mac lost it. Any hope he had of reining in his own hunger went up in smoke. The small part of his brain that still functioned registered the lightning flash that illuminated the draped windows, the sound of rain pounding the rooftop, the squeals and slap of footsteps as people caught in the rain hurried past the door outside. But nature’s fireworks were no match for the fire in his blood.
He eased his palms from her waist to her hips, continued down until he reached the hem of her skirt. Then he slid his hands up her legs, beneath the edge of her panties, cupped her moist heat. When Rachel whimpered, pressed herself against him, Mac quickly discarded the scrap of lace. He tested her with his fingers.
“Mac,” she cried out. “Hurry.”
“In my pocket. Protection,” he told her.
And
