the sleek muscles beneath his shirt, the way they rippled and flexed as he moved. Using her nails like claws, she tore at the tail of his shirt, dragging it out from the waistband of his jeans until the pads of her fingers encountered smooth, bare skin.
Between them, he was loosening the buttons of her blouse from top to bottom, opening her to the night air. And Emma let him…more than let him. She moved however she thought was needed to grant him the best access.
It was amazing, wonderful, spectacular. Everything she’d ever imagined and more.
She was panting for breath when Mitch grasped her shoulders and pushed her slightly away. His own chest heaved as he stared down at her, his eyes dark with desire.
“Don’t stop,” she blurted out, thrusting her fingers into the hair at his temples and drawing him near once again.
She was so afraid he’d stop. So afraid the tight line of his lips meant he was about to apologize and say that kissing her was a mistake.
But it wasn’t a mistake; it was what she wanted. Had wanted, more than anything, for years.
“Please,” she said again, more softly this time, uncaring that she likely sounded desperate and pathetic, “don’t stop.”
“Not a chance,” he murmured, just before he lowered his head to kiss her again and sent her world back to the realm of temporary perfection.
Two
Mitch’s body was on fire, throbbing with need and straining to get closer to Emma.
Four years. It had been four years since his divorce from Suzanne and four long years since he’d been with a woman. The time had taken its toll and stretched his control to the breaking point.
And now here he was, with a warm and willing woman in his arms.
Never mind that it was Emma, childhood friend and neighbor, a woman he shouldn’t even be contemplating sleeping with.
But she tasted like peppermint and smelled like flowers and reminded him of a time in his life when he hadn’t been miserable. Back when they were kids, without a care in the world, when he was first married to Suzanne, head over heels in love and believing they would always be that way.
Emma was safe and familiar…and sexy as all get out.
How had he never noticed that before? The way her small, firm breasts filled out the front of her blouse and her soft lips formed a seductive little moue. Or the way her strawberry-blond hair fell to her shoulders and perfectly framed her heart-shaped face.
He shouldn’t be thinking of her in those terms, shouldn’t be touching and kissing her. But she felt so good, so right, he couldn’t seem to stop.
She made soft mewling sounds as their tongues tangled and her body writhed against his. He pushed her shirt the rest of the way off her shoulders, letting it fall to the bale of straw behind her.
Her chest rose and fell with her breathing, as rapidly as his own. But he didn’t let it keep him from sliding his right hand over her left breast, beneath the lacy material of her bra. His fingers caressed the pillowy softness while his thumb teased and flicked the hardened nipple.
She moaned in pleasure, sending shockwaves rippling through his bloodstream. Her head fell back, exposing the long, smooth column of her throat, and he couldn’t resist kissing her there, licking the pulse point and nibbling at the taut line of muscle.
He used his free hand to unhook the latch of her bra and skim the loosened straps down her arms.
In the back of his mind, he hoped she would protest. If she asked him to stop, suffered a sudden bout of embarrassment, he was gentleman enough not to pressure her to go farther than she felt comfortable. But on his own…
On his own, he wasn’t sure he was man enough to let her go.
He had full access now to her bare chest and took a moment to admire the pale splendor of her small, pert breasts with their tiny cherry nipples. They reminded him of ice cream sundaes, sweet and delectable and good enough to eat.
Shifting around on the bales of straw, he supported her back with one arm while leaning in for a taste. He kissed the side of her breast, then opened his mouth to sample the silken skin.
She raked her hands through his hair, grazing the scalp and anchoring her fingers near his nape. His tongue drew circles around her tightened areola, the movements growing smaller and smaller until he engulfed the entire tip.
She straddled his thighs like a champion rider, tilting her hips, straining for a more intimate touch. And he wanted to give it to her, was desperate for it himself. Sweating, shaking, more aroused than he could ever remember being before in his life.
Releasing her breast, dragging in great gulps of air, he returned his mouth to her lips. At the same time, he tried to get his trembling fingers to work on the snap and zipper of her jeans.
With the denim loose around her waist, he slipped his hands inside, palms flat against her skin as he slid them down, beneath the elastic edge of her panties. He skimmed her hips, then moved around to cup her buttocks.
When she moaned and ground herself into the hard bulge behind the zipper of his own jeans, he knew he couldn’t wait much longer to be inside her. Not without embarrassing himself and depriving them both of something he was beginning to suspect would be earth-shattering.
Laying her back along the bed of straw bales, he sat up only long enough to yank off her shoes and drag her pants down her legs. Then he was with her again, tearing off his shirt, unbuckling his belt and opening his fly before covering her with his body.
He lifted her legs around his waist, gently probing her warm, moist folds. Brushing thin strands of strawberry-blond hair away from her face, he met her eyes and offered her an encouraging smile. She returned his grin and lifted her hands to his shoulders, applying just enough pressure to tug him down for a kiss. While his tongue plumbed the depths of her mouth, he cocked his hips and entered her in one long, strong stroke.
The instant friction and intense sensation made them both gasp. Mitch held himself perfectly still, feeling her tight inner muscles flexing around him, all but blowing off the top of his head. He knew if he moved, if she shifted even a millimeter, things between them would be over much too soon.
So he gritted his teeth, concentrating on his breathing until the blaze in his gut sputtered to a low forest fire and he thought he could open his eyes, gaze down at Emma’s angelic features without exploding. She was staring up at him with liquid blue eyes, the same stunned expression on her face that he suspected mirrored his own.
Taking a deep breath, he let the air shudder out of his lungs, and then brushed his lips across her mouth.
Her breasts brushed his chest, her arms and legs locked around him like tentacles. With a minor shift, just a small forward movement, he was inside her, buried to the hilt.
He groaned, the sound rumbling up from his diaphragm even as she flexed around him and he began to move. Short, slow strokes growing slightly longer and faster as the tension built. Blood pumped through his veins, hot and flowing like molten lava to pool between his legs.
Emma threw her head back and he kissed her throat, nibbled her ear, trailed
