she had gotten up this morning determined not to let things get to this point. But now that they were here—now that he was brushing his lips over hers, soft and gentle and asking for permission...
She sighed into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his waist. However many reasons there were not to do this, none of them trumped the simple fact that she wanted Seth. She wanted to hold on to this last chance to be Kate Burroughs before her identity was redefined by motherhood. She wanted her baby, but she didn’t want to lose herself, either.
So she kissed him back. She opened her mouth for him and slid her tongue along the seam of his lips and thrilled at the groan of desire that rumbled out of his chest. She pressed her body to his and let the warmth of his solid muscles sink into her skin.
She stopped trying to fight this desire. She stopped trying to fight herself.
Seth was the one who broke the kiss. He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he said, his words coming out in a rush. “But I can’t regret it.”
This was it, her last chance to stop this madness before it consumed her.
Too damned bad she wanted to be consumed. “Yes, you should’ve.”
He gave her a quizzical look. “Was I reading you wrong? I thought you weren’t interested.”
She had tried so hard not to be. “Seth, this is a bad idea.” His face fell. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not interested. I don’t want to be interested in you. My life is complicated enough. But I can’t help wanting you.”
Dimly, she was aware that they were locked in an embrace inside a stranger’s home. True, the home had been unoccupied for months. But ethically, she was pushing her luck. “We need to leave.”
He nodded and stepped back, but he didn’t let go of her. Instead, his arm slid down around her waist and he held her tight to his side. “Where do you want to go? Dinner or...”
She would need to eat—eventually. But she needed him more. “Or?”
He guided her toward the door. “What about your place?”
She hesitated. It was such a small apartment. She knew she shouldn’t be embarrassed for him to see it—it was clean and neat. But after spending the day in some of the nicer homes in Rapid City, her apartment would look pathetic in comparison.
Besides, she didn’t want Seth in her apartment because then she would have all these memories of him there. Every time she walked into her bedroom, she would remember him stretched out on her bed, the sheet around his hips and his chest bare. Every time she tried to fall asleep, his presence would keep her awake.
She needed to keep a little distance between the rest of her life and what was going to happen in the next few weeks. Because she couldn’t imagine that this would last more than a few weeks.
Just long enough for her to taste true passion. Just enough memories to keep her going through what would be a few years of long days and sleepless nights. That’s all she was doing with Seth—making memories.
“Your place?”
“I’m currently living in a hotel. But,” he added, opening the door for her, “it has room service. If you’re sure?”
Was she sure this was a good idea? No. She was pretty sure it wasn’t.
But was she sure that Seth would take great care with her? That he would deliver on exactly what he had promised—something fun and satisfying, something to erase the lingering bad memories of Roger from her mind? Something good?
She leaned up on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his lips—a promise of more to come. “I’m sure. Are you?”
That smile—confident and cocky, sensual and heated—that was exactly what she was looking for. “You have no idea.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Seth said, “We can order room service later,” as he guided her into the room and kicked the door shut behind him.
Then she was sinking into his arms and wondering why, exactly, she’d fought against this so hard. It didn’t mean anything. She was attracted to Seth and he was attracted to her, and she simply hadn’t had enough fun in her life for so long that she almost couldn’t remember what it felt like to enjoy herself.
Well, to hell with that. Because she was going to enjoy this time here, with this man. “Okay?” Seth asked again as his hands settled around her waist. They hadn’t even gotten to the bed—he was still leaned against the door. But he wasn’t going to let her go.
“Okay,” she agreed, sliding her hands underneath his jacket and flattening her palms against his chest. It had been unseasonably warm today and he had on another Crazy Horse T-shirt. His body was hard and hot under her touch, and touch him she did.
He let her. He stayed still while she explored the planes of his chest. He didn’t yank her clothing off, didn’t try to skip the foreplay and get straight to the sex. He let her take her time and that felt important. She didn’t know how long they had together, but she didn’t want to rush it.
“You never did tell me how old you are,” she murmured as she pushed the jacket from his shoulders. He let go of her waist long enough for the leather to hit the floor and then she was studying his arms. She hadn’t seen them before—the muscles that strained at the sleeves of his shirt, a tattoo visible on his right biceps. “Good Lord, Seth. Look at you.”
“Twenty-five. And I’d rather look at you. Except...without these clothes.” He peeled her black suit jacket off her shoulders. “Black and white are all wrong on you. You need bright, vibrant color, Kate. You’re gorgeous in color.”
She felt her cheeks get warm. “It was the only thing that fit,” she admitted—and that was only because the pants had elastic in the back. Otherwise, she would’ve been showing houses in yoga pants.
“Ah. And here I thought you were sending me a message—hands off.”
She could feel that her whole face had turned red and it only got worse as he reached for the buttons on her slacks. It wasn’t like he hadn’t undressed her before—he had. He had lifted her skirt and peeled off a petticoat and been within inches of her most personal areas. But it was different now. Her body was changing faster every single day. “I’m different. Since the last time we did this.”
His mouth curved into a dangerous half grin. “We’ve done this before? I’m sure I would remember.”
“You know what I mean,” she said, whacking him on the side of the arm. “You have undressed me before. At least partially.”
“Trust me, babe—I have not forgotten. I never will.” He worked the zipper down and then slid his hands underneath the fabric, along her skin. “And this time, I’m not going to settle on ‘partially.’”
She didn’t have on a thong today, nor did she have on stockings and a garter. The best she could do was a pair of bikini-cut panties—white—with a little pink bow on the front and her new, very serviceable white bra. The underthings were innocent, almost—the most innocent thing about this particular situation, anyway.
