Page 72 of Out of the Cold

She froze, her mouth open but unable to form words.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never danced with a man before.” Her heart was racing, her whole body craving his body against hers.

“Never? How can that be?”

“I was too sick to go to school dances, even the prom. I tried to get Mark to dance at my friend’s wedding, but he said he had two left feet.”

He tugged until she was a hair’s breadth away from him. “There’s nothing to it,” he said, his voice warm in her ear. “We just stand close and move together.”

Her gaze traveled over his dark hair and gorgeous face, his slow, wicked smile. His breath stirred her hair as one hand engulfed her smaller one. The other settled in the small of her back.

“Good?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

And oh, she remembered that voice.

I know what you want, he’d said.

And he did know.

They started to move.

She felt him everywhere—her breasts and stomach, her thighs. He made a sound deep in his throat and pressed her closer. There was no space between them now. Her skin grew sensitized to an almost unbearable degree, her breath light and fast.

She pressed her nose into his neck and breathed deeply. He smelled of her soap, but beneath that was his own scent, which she couldn’t get enough of.

“Lucy.”

“Mmm?”

He was hard against her now, pressing into her belly. She slid a hand beneath his shirt, desperate for the feel of his skin.

All of it—against hers. ?

His hands came up to cup her face, and then his mouth was on hers, hungry and demanding. She responded with everything she had. Her hand curled around the back of his neck. Her nails scraping, her body pressing against him.

Needing to be closer.

“Sweet Jesus,” he groaned.

“A bed this time,” she said, panting.

His expression was fierce, his jaw rigid. She was doing that to him, driving him as crazy as he was her.

“Hell, yes,” he said, grabbing a lantern as he tugged her toward her bedroom.

Moments later, the lantern was on the nightstand, and she was climbing backwards on her bed, pulling him with her. His kiss was savage, deep and hungry. She arched into him, desperate for more, and opened her legs. He settled in the cradle of her hips, and she moaned aloud, pressing into him.

“The things I want to do to you,” he ground out.

“Do them,” she panted.

Shameless. She was shameless, and out of her mind for him.

His hands were at the hemline of her shirt, tugging and impatient. “I need you naked.”

She sat up, pulled her shirt over her head, and tossed it to the floor. She had nothing on under it. She was so small she hardly ever wore a bra.

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