Page 46 of So Wrong It Must Be Right

He had a sweetness and tenderness about him she not only wasn’t used to in men but didn’t quite know how to accept or reciprocate. All those sweet little gestures made her throat close up and nerves flutter around in her chest. She couldn’t remember being very nervous with guys. Not really; certainly not like this.

“You’re very beautiful all the time, but especially in the moonlight.”

“And you are surprisingly romantic,” she managed, though her throat still felt all closed up and tight.

“For a farmer?”

“For aguy.”

He chuckled at that, still drawing his fingers across her face. She leaned into him, even with the jangle of nerves rushing through her. There was still something so enticing about what he could make her feel, nerves couldn’t make her stop.

“Dinah.”

“What?”

“I just wanted to say your name. Your actual name.”

Her stomach flipped and fluttered, so she reached out and stroked the same pattern across his face that he’d been stroking across hers. Bearded and rough, such a strong, rugged face. “Carter,” she murmured.

It was alarming how much she felt. Her heart was jittering, and her breath was ragged. She didn’t feel steady or certain ofanything. It was all too much and too big for something so new and potentially fraught.

But no matter the alarm, it was wonderful to feel this way. Amazing to have someone as invested in the possibility of her, as she was in the possibility of him. She couldn’t resist sinking into that feeling and all of the potential that existed between them.

She pressed her mouth to his and let herself be soft and gentle. Which she wasn’t sure she’d ever allowed herself to be. She didn’t try to take charge, and she didn’t try to remember some email exchange they’d made. She just fit her mouth to his and enjoyed the ride.

* * *

Carter didn’t have the first clue what he was doing. But ever since Dinah Gallagher had walked into his life, uncertainty had become part and parcel. She was this bright, otherworldly creature he didn’t know how to resist or control or manage.

So he let himself go, in ways he probably never had in his entire life.

He kissed her like she was the special woman that she was. He didn’t think about all the emails they’d written to each other; he didn’t even think about the things they’d done to each other in the past few weeks.

He savored the taste of her mouth and the feel of her arms coming around him. He allowed himself to take and give in equal measure and he didn’t rush. His mouth cruised over hers as his hands slid up her back. For a few humming, sensual minutes all they did was kiss. Their tongues lightly brushing, their mouths gently touching. There was nothing rushed about it. There was nothing fantasy about it. Because she was Dinah and he was Carter.

His heart beat unsteadily in his chest at that thought, but it still didn’t stop him. Because the magic of Dinah was that no matter how many reasonable, sensible things his brain told him, feeling took over. Feeling won.

He tangled his fingers through the silky strands of her hair and angled her head just a pinch so he could slowly, erotically, agonizingly deepen the kiss, millimeter by millimeter. Fraction by fraction.

She made a little sound in the back of her throat, but she didn’t push any more than he did, a rarity for both of them when they were together. To stall. To languish. To relax into the enjoyment.

Her palms slid up his back, a possessive grip. She had so many opposing forces inside of her—a strong, iron-like certainty in her life; a soft pliancy in his arms.

“Let’s go inside,” he whispered across her mouth.

Her lips curved as her eyes fluttered open. “I suppose we’ve given your neighbors a few too many shows these past few days.”

“So far no one’s complained.” He unwound his hands from her hair, but he wasn’t content to lose that touch. He kept his arm around her shoulders as he led her around back and in through the kitchen.

They walked quickly into his bedroom, never stepping away from each other, never breaking contact.

Real. Honest.Them. Those words were haunting him a bit. Carter and Dinah, possibly the two people they could least afford to be, and yet how did he not afford this? Her?

He walked into the center of the bedroom, then turned to face her. Her hair was mussed, her makeup kissed off, even her usually impeccable clothes were rumpled. “I like you this way,” he murmured, letting his fingers run down the edges of the little blazer-coat thing she wore before he pushed it off her shoulders.

“What way? About to have sex with you?”

“Well, that. In addition to rumpled. Messy.” The jacket fell to the floor.

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