wasn’t his usual sort of woman.
Nick didn’t care.
He wanted her. And the desire that had been building all evening was the only thing that mattered to him now. She was tart and sweet, eager and tentative, cool and yet capable of burning him down to the ground.
She looked too closely, saw too much. And she wasn’t afraid to talk about what she saw.
But they weren’t talking now, were they?
No. They were kissing. God, yes, they were kissing! And her lips were as hungry as his. Her hands were as eager as his. They slid up his arms and around the back of his neck to hold his face to hers. He didn’t complain. It was what he wanted, too.
Restless and eager, his hands roved over her back, tangled in her hair, loosening whatever pins she had anchored it with so that it fell in loose, heavy dark waves over her shoulders and down her back. He ran his fingers through it, buried his face in it, drew in the citrusy scent of shampoo and something exclusively Edie Daley.
It was heady, dizzying, and it didn’t matter if she wasn’t the sort of woman he ordinarily took to bed, a woman he could scratch a physical itch with and walk away from. He could do the same with her. He would do the same.
But first he would spend the night with her.
And yes, he knew exactly what he was doing.
“I missed a spot on the tour,” he murmured against her lips.
Edie pulled back slightly, stared at him, disbelieving.
“My bedroom.”
She smiled. Then she placed her hands on his arm and looked up into his eyes. “What a very good idea,” she said. And there was a breathless quality in her voice that cranked his desire up another notch.
“Right this way.” And he scooped her up into his arms and carried her down the hall to the room he’d been using as a bedroom, pausing only to kick the door open. Then he bumped it firmly shut again with one hip and then, in the darkness, lowered her onto his bed. He dropped down beside her, intending to pick up where they’d left off.
“Turn on the light,” Edie said.
He pulled back and looked at her. “What?”
“If I’m getting a tour, I want to see everything.”
Which wasn’t a bad idea at all. He very much wanted to see her as he made love to her. He grinned.
“Or maybe there aren’t lights,” she reflected. “Do you use candles for an authentic ambiance?”
“It’s possible to use candles,” Nick said. But he reached over and flipped on a bedside lamp. “When they give tours at night, I imagine they do. But tonight I think a lamp will do.”
It was a subdued light, but even so it threw the room with its utilitarian furnishings and spartan double bed into a pattern of light and shadow. Hardly the sight of a romantic seduction.
But Nick wasn’t focusing on the room. He had eyes only for Edie Daley. He’d seduce her anywhere. She was half-reclining on his bed, the mauve dress dark against her creamy skin. The low light made Edie’s peekaboo freckles entirely disappear and turned her skin to a soft gold while it made her dark hair look even thicker and more lustrous. Nick reached up a hand and ran his fingers through it again. It seemed to curl around his fingers with a life of its own. He rubbed a strand of it against his cheek, smoothed it over his lips, tasted it.
Then once more he buried his face into it, breathed deeply, knew the scent now—the hints of citrus and woods—and woman. This woman.
He wanted to give her a night to remember. He didn’t want to erase her husband’s memory. He knew she wouldn’t forget just as he could never forget Amy. But equally, from here ever after, whenever Edie thought about making love, Nick wanted his face to come to mind.
He pulled back and undid his tie, then stripped off his coat and tossed it on the bureau. All the while he kept his gaze locked on hers. Smiling, Edie lay back against the pillow and watched him with a kind of hungry fascination that made his blood heat even more.
He reached for his shirt buttons, fingers trembling. As he did so, Edie raised a hand to touch his. “May I?”
Undress him? Nick wasn’t used to giving up control. It seemed far too intimate. Risky. But Edie was smiling at him, looking hopeful, eager yet a little hesitant, too. And he knew he didn’t want her hesitant. He wanted her to enjoy, to be involved, an active equal partner in their lovemaking.
So he gave a quick nod. “Be my guest.”
Resolutely he dropped his hands to his sides and let her fingers do the work, certain his could have done in mere seconds. But the way they were trembling as she touched him, he wasn’t sure that was true.
Edie sat up on the bed and leaned toward him, then began to studiously go to work on his shirt buttons. Her knuckles brushed lightly against the underside of his chin as she undid the top button. The soft brush of her skin against his made his chin tingle. As she moved lower, she caught her lower lip between her teeth as she concentrated on each one in turn.
His fingers clenched into fists to keep from pushing her hands away and doing it himself. It would be so much quicker and easier and he would get to feel her bare fingers on his skin that much sooner.
But having relinquished control he knew he couldn’t wrest it from her now, knew she had to be the one to set the tempo.
So he let her—even as the tentative dance of her fingers damned near killed him.
Edie took her time.
She didn’t know what was going to happen after tonight.
She didn’t care. She didn’t want to think about it. Since Ben had died, she’d spent too much of her life trying unsuccessfully to focus on the moment when she’d really never been able to do more than endure.
Not now.
Not tonight.
Not when this moment and those immediately following were going to be spent with Nick Savas—making love with Nick Savas.
She was going to savor it. Why not?
She’d missed the intimacy of the bedroom. Her first experience, with Kyle, had left her wondering what all the excitement was about. During the few weeks they’d been together, he had been fierce and hungry and demanding. He’d always directed things. Always taken charge. And with the eagerness of youth—he’d been twenty-three—Kyle had been more concerned with the end than the journey along the way. He’d never given her a chance to discover the subtleties of lovemaking.
With Ben it had been different. The two of them had learned together. They’d explored together. With Ben it had been about the journey, about pleasing, about loving, not simply about the orgasmic rush. It had been about knowing and being known.
She knew better than to expect that here. A single night meant nothing compared to the years she’d had with Ben. But until tonight she’d never even been tempted. She wasn’t sure what that meant.
