Page 55 of Takes Two to Tango

"Dear God, woman," he said, closing the door and turning the lock. “You aren’t wearing any clothes.”

“Oh, you noticed." She stretched, raising her long arms above her head and arching her back. Her breasts rose and he nearly squealed with excited meant. Hell, yes. What he wanted. What he needed. He thought about dropping to his knees and crawling to her.

Instead he bent and unlaced his work boots.

"Do you want me to cover up with the throw you used last time?" she asked. Her voice was low, seductive. Very naughty.

"Are you sure about this, Rayne Bow?" He purposely used one of her childhood nicknames. He wanted her to realize what she was doing. Once they made love, there was no going back.

She moved closer to him. He caught the scent of vanilla, the sweet goodness that was signature Rayne. His body tightened.

"I'm sure, Brent." She ran her fingers over his naked shoulder. It might as well have been a cattle prod - he set the olive oil on the table, toed off his boots, and prayed there were no holes in his socks. Nope. He wore the newer ones. Good.

Rayne dropped her arms and set her hands on her delicious hips. Her hair curled over her shoulders, framing the sweetness of her face. She held her lightly freckled shoulders back so that her rose-tipped breasts jutted forward. Her taut stomach tapered to round hips and long legs that seemed to go on forever. She watched him as he perused her body.

When he met her gaze, she smiled. Gone was shy, stammering girl he doted so sweetly on all those year. No, this grown woman was his match in every way. Made for him.

A rightness settled over him, along with a serious need to scoop her up, take her to his bed, and do all the crazy wicked things he'd imagined in the wee hours of the past few mornings.

Gut instinct.

His told him to do this right.

"Okay, naughty girl,” he said, stroking lightly against her collarbone. Her breath caught and those cinnamon eyes dilated. She bit her lower lip and studied him. He slid a finger down to the top of her breast. “Shower first? We're a little... messy." '

“I like messy," she said, running her hand lightly over the hair on his chest. And for the first time in a long time, Brent felt nervous about being with a woman.

Not because what had happened weeks ago with Tamara. On the contrary, he might have the opposite problem. And it wasn’t like he didn’t know his way around a woman’s body. His moves were so practiced, his knowledge so vast that he could likely write a book. Sex wasn’t an issue, but making love to a woman he …well, cared deeply for, almost worshipped, well, that unnerved him.

But Brent wasn’t going to let a little nervousness stop him.

He tumbled back in time as he reached out a hand to test the weight of her breast. Once again, he was tangled with Rayne beneath the weeping willow, daring her to let him touch her, scared to get caught working on his moves. Back then, she’d been wearing clothes. Now she was everything that teen boy could never imagine.

She rose on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. A hot weight settled in his chest before sinking deeper into his loins. He'd never wanted a woman like this before. He'd spent forever waiting on Rayne, and now she would be his.

Surreal.

He threaded his hands through her curls, cupping her head, angling her so he could deepen the kiss. She tasted like innocence. She tasted like temptation. She tasted like Rayne.

He groaned his pleasure into her mouth and allowed his hands to glide down the smoothness of her back to cup her sweet bottom. He hauled her against his body because she felt so damn good. So different than the girl she’d been. But his hands remembered her body, the way she felt even if she had more curves now.

He broke the kiss and buried his head in the meeting of her neck and body, inhaling her fragrance, nipping the sensitive flesh of her throat.

"Brent," she breathed against him, running her hands down his back. When she reached his waistband, she slid her hands beneath to his buttocks. Desire sank its teeth in him.

He ripped himself from her and reached for the fly of his jeans. "I'd like to do this right. Slow and sweet. Make you come, watch your eyes. I don’t know if I can-”

Her hands stilled him. She caressed his shoulder, tracing a smudge of paint. "We don't have to go slow, but it's our first time. I've waited a long time for you, Brent Hamilton."

Her words slid over him. She was right. He was no randy teenager, no matter how she made him feel.

“You know how sexy you are? Know how close I am to losing control?"

She clasped his erection through his boxers. "l've got an idea."

“Rayne,” he groaned, biting her shoulder again. "You're not helping matters doing things like that."

He pulled her hand from his hardness. She laughed.

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