were ducks lazily holding their position against the current and waiting hopefully for a crust or the odd chip. Ginny watched them for a moment then with a chuckle turned to Ryan, to find him watching her again with a strange intensity.
She expected him to flush or turn away, but he didn’t. Instead, his eyes burned into hers. ‘You’re beautiful, Virginia,’ he murmured, and she was the one who blushed. ‘Beautiful and feminine and very, very tempting. I made myself a promise tonight.’
She waited and eventually he continued, his voice strained, ‘I promised myself I wasn’t going to jump your bones. Not on the first date, at least, or the second.’
‘When’s the third?’ she asked brazenly, shocked at herself but unable to help the words.
His eyes darkened and his breath caught in his throat. ‘Dammit, woman, you aren’t supposed to say things like that!’ he choked out on a laugh.
She laughed with him, caught up in the sensual cocoon of their living hideaway, and he moved closer, turning sideways so that he was sitting on one hip with his leg drawn up and leaning on his outstretched hand—leaving the other hand free to give her its undivided attention.
His knuckles grazed her cheek, just softly, then down over the hollow of her throat until the backs of his fingers rested against the swell of her breast, just visible over the scooped neck of the little top.
Then his hand turned over, skimming across her breast and up, so that his fingers lay against the pulse at the side of her neck and his thumb dragged sensuously over her waiting lips. He caught her chin to steady her, and then his mouth was descending slowly, closing with hers inch by tormenting inch.
That first touch of his mouth was like the brush of an angel’s wing—light, delicate, almost her imagination.
And then he kissed her, and the world outside their shimmering curtain disappeared in a haze of sensation. He was still gentle, but there was no part of her that felt untouched by him in the course of that one sweet kiss. Her lips parted for his tongue, and it seemed to caress her soul. No one had ever kissed her like that—ever.
She didn’t want it to end, but of course it did. Good things always did—and this one with a muttered oath.
‘Number thirty-seven?’ a girl was calling.
‘Damn,’ he said again. ‘That’s our supper. Virginia, would you? I can’t go out there like this.’
He looked embarrassed, but he didn’t need to. She was every bit as aroused. It was just more subtle. She stood up, ducked under the willow curtain and retrieved their food from the waitress.
When she went back under the tree he was sitting with his leg hitched up, one arm resting on his knee and the other wrapped round his shin. He looked awkward, as if the kiss had been an accident, and she couldn’t bear to see him flagellate himself for the most beautiful experience of her life.
She sat down, passed him his supper and met his rueful eyes. ‘Don’t, O’Connor,’ she said softly. ‘That was a beautiful kiss. I won’t let you regret it.’
He laughed without humour. ‘I was out of line.’
‘No, you weren’t. You got there just before I did.’
He met her eyes, his startled, and then he chuckled. ‘I do believe you’re telling the truth.’
‘Oh, I am,’ she said round a mouthful of prawns in mayonnaise. ‘I was beginning to think you’d never get round to it without a little help.’
He choked on his first forkful of salad and Ginny slapped him on the back and then eyed him as he swallowed and wiped his streaming eyes.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Fine,’ he croaked. ‘Just don’t say things like that.’
‘Like what? That I want you, too?’
He dropped his fork and pushed his plate away. ‘Virginia, you’re playing with fire here.’
‘I certainly hope so.’
His eyes searched her face. ‘I’m a widower,’ he told her bluntly. ‘I’ve got two kids who take all my time and energy. This is going nowhere. It’s just an affair.’
‘That’s fine,’ she said. ‘That’s all I want too.’
She could see the tension in him escalate. He swallowed. ‘There’s no happy ever after, Ginny. Not for me. Not any more.’
She wanted to cry for him, but she was all cried out for herself. ‘That’s fine,’ she whispered. ‘Where shall we go?’
‘Now?’ he said, his voice strangled.
‘Why not?’
He stared at her for long seconds then, standing up, he pulled her to her feet. ‘Friends of mine are away. They’ve given me the keys of their barn in case of emergencies. I think this qualifies.’
She laughed softly and followed him out of the sheltering cocoon. It seemed miles to the car, even further to the barn set high up on the side of a valley with a wood behind it and rolling fields in front.
They went in without a word, and upstairs to the only room that was furnished.
Then he turned to her, his eyes serious. ‘Are you sure?’ he murmured.
She nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m sure.’
His hands on her body were tender, almost reverent. He untied her blouse, spreading the sides and looking down at the full swell of her breasts under the skimpy T-shirt. ‘So much woman,’ he whispered.
Her breath caught as his hands slid under the hem of the T-shirt and cupped her breasts. They were naked under the soft cotton, ready for his touch, and he lifted the hem and brought his mouth to them in turn. She cried out, clinging to his shoulders, and he dragged her closer—his control ragged now—and buried his face in the side of her neck.
‘This is probably going to be a disaster the first time, Virginia. It’s been so damn long for me, but I’ll make it up to you next time, I promise.’ His lips pressed against the leaping pulse in the hollow of her throat and her head fell back, sensation swamping her.
He lowered her to the bed, bunching her skirt around her waist, his hands finding and stripping away the tiny scrap of lace which was all she wore beneath the skirt.
His face was a mask now, taut with need and desire, and kneeling between her thighs he tore open his trousers with shaking hands and reached for her.
‘Help me,’ he muttered tightly. ‘Virginia, help me—’
Then he was there, sliding home in the sweet nectar that her body wept for him, and tears welled in her eyes. She cradled him in her arms, her body arching to meet his, and he drove deeply into her—again and again and again—until with a harsh cry he shuddered against her and was still.
She was unfulfilled, but it didn’t matter. He needed her, and she needed to be needed. OK, it was only physical and only fleeting, but she took what she could get.
