He knew her as he’d known no other woman. Her body was as familiar to him as his own. Her passion as important as his own.
Her hands clutched at his back, his shoulders, his arms. Every strangled breath and sigh fed the fires inside him. His hips pistoned into hers as he withdrew from her body only to plunge deep inside her heat again.
Her gasps and sighs filled him, pushing him harder, faster, as he quickened the rhythm between them and she rushed to meet him. He took her mouth, his kiss demanding, hungry. She had demands, too. Silent, desperate demands that he met eagerly.
“Nathan. Nathan.” His name became a chant that was caught up by the wind and tossed into the night sky. She whispered and pleaded, moving her body into his, fighting for the release that waited for her.
And when the first tremor hit, she clung to him, riding out wave after wave of pleasure tearing through her. Nathan felt her body fist on his as her completion took her. Only then did he give himself up to the coiled tension inside, finally releasing his stranglehold on control, surrendering to what only Amanda could do to him.
His body exploded, his mind shattered and when he collapsed against her, Amanda’s arms came around him in the darkness.
Amanda’s heartbeat was racing. With Nathan’s heavy weight covering her, she felt, for the first time in years, complete. Ridiculous to admit, even to herself, but without him in her life she’d always felt as though something was missing. Something vital.
Now, here it was.
But she didn’t know how long this could last.
He’d already told her that as far as he was concerned they weren’t together. This was just sex. Stupendous sex, but just sex. If she made more of it than that, she would be setting herself up for pain and disappointment.
He shifted and rolled to one side of her, drawing her with him until she was nestled against his chest. Amanda listened to the sound of his rapid heartbeat and knew that he was as affected as she was. Some consolation in that, she supposed.
The silence between them stretched on for what seemed forever until she simply couldn’t stand it anymore. Best, she told herself, to be the one to speak first. To set a tone that would let him know that she wasn’t going to swoon into his arms or cry and beg him to stay.
Not that she didn’t want to, but he didn’t have to know that, did he?
“Nathan, that was—”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “It was.”
“So,” she said, lifting her head to look at him, “come here often?”
He grinned, fast and sharp and her breath caught.
“Haven’t been here in years,” he said. “Not since—”
He stopped, but now she knew that he hadn’t brought another woman to what was most definitely “their” place. Funny how much comfort that brought her. Oh, he was no monk and during the time they were apart—there had no doubt been dozens of women in his life. She winced at that thought. But at least he hadn’t brought them here.
“It’s beautiful here,” she told him, glancing at the moonlight on the water.
“Yeah, it is. Look, Amanda …”
Oh, that sounded like the beginnings of a we-have-to-talk speech. Which she really didn’t want to hear at the moment. She preferred the teasing, tempting Nathan who had just shattered her so completely. She didn’t want to talk to the dutiful and honorable Nathan. Not now.
So she just wouldn’t give him the opportunity to turn this moment into a regret-filled this-will-never-happen-again speech. Abruptly, she sat up and reached for her shirt. Dragging it on over her head, she flipped her hair back over her shoulder and asked, “How about some of that wine?”
He studied her for a long minute, then sat up and reached for his own clothes. “Sure, that’d be good.”
“And cookies,” she reminded him, determined to keep a cheerful, nonchalant attitude. Standing up, she stepped into her panties and then her skirt, smoothing the material before sitting down on the quilt again. “I think we need more cookies.”
Once he was dressed, he sat down opposite her on the quilt and watched her warily, as if she were a time bomb with a faulty fuse and could go off any second. “Cookies.”
“Why not?” she asked. “Don’t you remember? Sex always gives me an appetite.”
Unexpectedly, he smiled as he poured them each a fresh glass of wine. “I do remember all of the picnics we had in bed.”
Stillness washed over her as memories slammed into her mind. So many nights they’d spent in bed, laughing, loving and then feeding each other whatever they’d been able to find in the refrigerator. “We had a lot of good times, Nathan.”
He handed her a full glass, then clinked his to hers. “Yeah, we did. But, Amanda …”
She cut him off and saw his jaw tighten at being interrupted. “Let’s just leave it there, okay? We had good times back then and we had a good time tonight. Isn’t that what you said earlier? We have tonight?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“So, let’s enjoy it.”
“You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever known.”
Amanda laughed. “I think I’m flattered.”
“You would be,” he said wryly. “You always knew how to twist me around until I didn’t know which end was up.”
He sounded almost wistful and Amanda’s heart lurched in her chest. Memories were swimming in the air between them, rising and falling as swiftly as the frothy waves on the nearby river. Amanda took a sip of her wine to ease the knot in her throat before she trusted herself to speak. “You used to like that about me.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I did.”
Her gaze caught with his. “I’ve missed you, Nathan.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
And maybe, Amanda told herself, for tonight, that was enough.
“You had sex.”
“Piper!” Amanda jolted and looked around the diner guiltily, making sure no one was within earshot. Thankfully, most of the lunch crowd was long gone and she and her friend had the back of the diner practically to themselves. Amanda grabbed her cup of coffee for a sip, then asked, “Could you say that any louder?”
“Probably,” Piper said. “Want me to try?”
“No!” Amanda shook her head and tried for a little dignity. What? Was the truth stenciled on her forehead? I had sex with Nathan last night. Who else had noticed? Oh, God.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Amanda told her, deciding to plead ignorance and let it go at that.
“Sure,” her old friend said with
