“Should I meet you, or would you rather pick me up?” she docilely asked, breath coming in trembling gasps.
“I’ll pick you up,” he nearly whispered as the fingers of his other hand played with loose strands of her hair; it was so soft, so incredibly soft.
“How should I dress? Casual? After five? Elegant?”
She couldn’t believe she could comprehend let alone formulate questions. He was touching her lightly yet urgently. She was a quivering mass of jelly, yet somehow she still stood before him instead of sinking bonelessly to the floor at his feet.
“Elegantly,” he decided and said as his hands followed her example and cupped her face.
“Mmm, sounds nice.” She shakily smiled. “You take charge very well.”
“Thanks.” Intense eyes stared into hers, and he decided to take even more as he placed a hand behind her nape and pulled her irresistible lips to his.
Devastation. No other word described what he did to her with that kiss—or what she did to him. He could happily feast on those lips for an eternity. She gladly clung to his hard shoulders as his mouth continued to plunder. When his lips released hers, they were both breathing hard. She opened stormy eyes to see the echoing depths of his.
“Very well indeed,” she murmured. “That was a wonderful first kiss.”
He frowned. “That wasn’t our first kiss. New Year’s Eve was.”
“New Year’s Eve I kissed you.” She smiled impishly. “This is the first time you’ve initiated a kiss between us. I hope it won’t be the last.”
“If you recall, I kissed you back on New Year’s Eve—” he traced the outline of her trembling lips with his fingers “—and I thoroughly enjoyed it.”
“You did?”
“Oh, you know I did,” he said and smiled.
“So did I. Let’s not wait so long before you kiss me again,” she softly suggested.
“We’ll see.” He touched her trembling lips with his fingers and then quickly removed them. “Good night, Marcy.”
“Good night,” she echoed. “Thanks for bringing me home.”
He glanced back at her trying to decide what he should do and what he wanted to do next—his head won out over want, and he determinedly opened the door and left. If he touched her again, he would be lost.
When her limbs would finally obey her commands, Marcy slowly retraced her steps and fell across the sofa. She let out her breath with a long, unsteady sigh. Gingerly, fingers touched her lips, and starry eyes closed as she remembered the feel of Nathan’s lips, body and his heart beating so close to hers.
She’d had a few crushes in her day but nothing close to what she felt for Nathan. She felt alive with him; he did things to her mind and spirit that she had never experienced before. They hadn’t known each other long, but he was the one; she knew it. Now her goal was to make him realize she was the one for him.
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