Lovers Only. Christine Pacheco
clasp that held the material together.
She looked up at him.
“Hmm, Cat? Slow and soft? Or fed by passion?”
Which would it be? Neither, she wanted to say. Neither, she should say. They’d spent less than three hours in each other’s presence and already she yearned for his touch.
Before much longer, she knew he would make her burn, too.
Damn it, why had she agreed to this?
“Tell you what,” he said softly, leaning a little closer, stealing the air she intended to breathe, “I’ll make the choice for you.”
Her eyelids drifted shut as another button magically surrendered beneath his skilled touch. Clay tugged on her blouse, pulling it free of the skirt’s waistband.
He released the final button.
The slippery silk slid against her shoulders.
Did Clay intend to slip it off her and allow it to pool on the carpeted floor?
Would she let him?
A breeze brushed treetops, then drifted through the open door, teasing the flesh laid bare by Clay’s hands.
“Slow, this time. Soft, too. I want to savor you, Cat.”
She licked her lower lip in anticipation. But he surprised her.
A feathering of a kiss whispered across her forehead. She opened her eyes.
Then shivered.
Clay’s blue eyes had darkened. Silver flecks from the dim overhead lighting radiated his inner intensity.
This was no game to Clay.
He wanted her back.
And intended to pursue her with the same single-minded determination that won Landon Construction half a dozen of the biggest contracts in Denver this year.
He brought a hand up, cupping her chin in his palm. “Your eyes show hurt, Cat.”
She swallowed. “I hurt,” she softly admitted.
“And I’m the one who hurt you.” Self-loathing sandpapered his voice.
The night gave courage. His eyes demanded the truth. “Yes,” she admitted.
“I’m going to chase it away.”
“And what if you make it worse?”
No answer. Just sounds of nocturnal animals stirring to life. Her heart continued to beat frantically. His jaw hardened.
“I won’t make it worse,” he finally said.
A part of her wanted to believe it.
“Fall in love with me, Cat.”
She refused to admit she already was.
“Let me love you. Let me chase away the pain.” Gently, ever so gently, he moved his forefinger across her brow, then back again.
Incredibly tender, he explored the contours of her face, the length of her nose, the outline of her lips, the shape of her cheekbone. Everywhere he touched felt light and ethereal, as if moonlight had caressed her.
Her lips seemed to swell with the promise that never came.
Instead, he lowered his head, trailing warm kisses down her throat, over her shoulder, baring it as he went.
Silk teased her skin, raising goose bumps.
He thumbed aside the bra strap, healing the flesh beneath with his tongue.
Catherine’s head tipped back as she surrendered to Clay. She offered her trust. Hoped he was worthy of it. Her hair hung down her back in abandon she hadn’t felt in years.
He lovingly rediscovered the nuances of her, the hollow of her neck, that place where a pulse raced, then the underneath of her chin.
His left hand held her, palm flat against the small of her back. With his right hand, he supported her neck.
With his mouth, he awakened her.
Clay’s unhurried homage made her feel feminine. Womanly.
Her breathing labored. Sharp nails sliced into her palms, adding to the hundreds of sensations that bombarded her.
“Touch me, Cat.”
His breath warmed her and she responded to his words, reaching for him, burrowing her hands in his thick hair, drawing him closer.
His evening shadow dragged across her skin. She cried out, not with pain, but with awareness.
Clay paused for a moments, looking at her questioningly.
Her eyes didn’t want to stay open, didn’t want to do anything but let her other senses be consumed. “Please don’t...”
His Adam’s apple moved as he gulped, waiting for her to finish.
“Don’t... stop.”
His curse was earthy. Fired a purely womanly response deep inside.
Holding his head, she urged him up. She ached for his touch. Ached. Wanted. Wanted it. Wanted it now.
“Kiss me, Clay.”
“Slow and soft...Cat?”
She barely recognized his voice, so labored with his rapid breaths.
“Or with passion?”
“Sl-slow,” she managed. Any more passion would see her unhinged. She knew it, suspected he knew the exact same thing.
His grip tightened, holding her steady as he claimed her lips.
The first second was like heaven refound.
He tasted of promise and night. He was warm as a sunbaked Colorado day.
And her mind remembered when...
The connection between them flared. She opened her eyes; silver flecks danced in his eyes. He remembered, too.
The next second made her insides liquid.
That was the moment their tongues touched, timed together with a hesitant heartbeat.
Confusion swamped her.
He retreated slightly.
So did she.
They looked deeply into each other’s eyes, not hiding their emotions any longer, but with stark honesty.
Both clearly read what the other wanted.
And it was so much more than a kiss. Or sex. Or undeniable passion.
Clay wanted her love.
Catherine wanted her freedom before it was too late. Dear God, before it was too late.
With a muffled cry, she reached her hands between them and pushed him away.
A tear trickled from the corner of her eye.
Three
Clay cursed himself for every kind of fool.
Reluctantly releasing Catherine, he strode to the cabin door and slammed it shut, sealing them both inside.
His right hand trembled.
Good God, what had he done?
Clay clenched his fist. He’d brought Cat to the cabin with every intention of seducing her.
But not yet.
Not for a week, maybe even two.
First he intended to win her trust. Talk. Allow her to vent her frustrations. Forge a plan to renew their relationship. Together.
But immediately he’d blown it.
At the first sight of Catherine