Summer of Fire - Linda Jacobs [130]
He deepened the embrace and she felt his need. His hands defined her in a way she had never thought possible. This might be another brainless decision of the body, the kind of stupid mistake she’d almost made with Deering, but how strong this sense of right.
She was vaguely aware of him stripping off his watch and dropping it onto the bed behind her. That simple gesture touched her as he tried to protect her from being scratched by the buckle.
One of his hands slid down her back and found the bottom of the thin T-shirt. She thought with longing of turquoise lace, tossed into a trashcan at the Storm Creek Camp. Raising her arms, she let him draw the single garment over her head.
She stood before him as naked as the desire in his eyes. She’d imagined them taking it slow; savoring each step that had been too long denied, but her hunger was as fierce as his.
“My God,” he said with undisguised appreciation. He was beyond savoring the view, shucking his jeans and underwear in a single motion to reveal his impatience.
She brushed her palms across his chest and he pulled her to him. The warmth of skin against skin made her shudder deliciously. “Remember when you were younger and this was a huge deal?” she whispered.
He stroked her bare shoulders and lowered his mouth to her ear. “I don’t know about you,” he nipped her lobe, “but for me, it’s as special . . . and as important, as ever.”
“That’s what I was getting to.” She ran out of words as he took her mouth. They went down together onto the bed, she on her back. She was ready, so ready, and he knew.
She reached to touch and found him powerful and equally prepared. He poised above her, seeking, and their eyes met.
He smiled.
As he pressed into her, she felt tight around him, another sign that it had been too long. Her hands roamed and discovered skin as smooth as she’d imagined. He smelled clean, yet the earthy scent of musk rose as she met him. His breath was fast against her cheek and he moaned. The sound of his voice drove her harder.
Dear God, it had never been like this. The urgency of his touch spoke to a sweet sense of yearning in her. This man, this place, this improbable set of circumstances, even her fear for Devon, combined to carry her along like a sweeping wave. Faster and hotter, Steve built to a frenzied motion. Sweat-slicked, driving, driving, until he said in her ear, “With me, Clare.”
She was there. A feeling so piercing and intense that tears filled her eyes, while the clench of her sent him to the brink.
Steve awakened in darkness with his arm around Clare, her body against him so that they fit together like a puzzle ring. Those intricately woven bands were a lot easier to take apart than they were to put together.
Yet, how complete he felt. The neon glow coming in around the drapes made him give thanks that it was not morning. Nights alone sometimes seemed interminable, but he wanted this one to last.
He remembered telling Clare, not once, but several times, of the glories of winter in Yellowstone. He’d shared the splendor of the Lower Falls, frozen into a three hundred foot cone of ice, Norris Geyser Basin steaming like a small city, and the sight of a mother moose breaking a path through March snow for her newborn calf. He’d not realized himself what he was doing, but with Clare warm and firm beside him, he admitted that he wanted more than this night.
She stirred and murmured his name. He loved the way it sounded, as though he were rediscovering value long forgotten. Today, she’d saved his life by turning on those sprinklers, and when he reached the parking lot . . . and her, he’d felt like a player rounding home base. How stupid he’d been to get hung up on Deering when she had been waiting for him.
Clare turned into his arms, her mouth finding his unerringly in the firelike glow from the windows. Impossible, but he wanted her again. Would keep wanting her if the way he felt tonight was any indication.
They moved together, less frantically than the first time. He was not as desperate for touch