Page 18 of Megan's Mate
She wondered why a boy of eighteen would have to search for freedom. And she thought of herself at that age, a child with a child. She’d cast her freedom away. Now, more than nine years later, she could hardly regret it. Not when the price of her freedom had been a son.
“Can we go down and get a drink?” Kevin tugged on his mother’s hand. “We’re all thirsty.”
“Sure. I’ll take you.”
“We can go by ourselves,” Alex said earnestly. He knew they were much too big to need an overseer. “I got money and everything. We just want to sit downstairs and watch everybody get off.”
“All right, then, but stay inside.” She watched them rush off. “They start spreading their wings so soon.”
“Your boy’s going to be flying back to you for a long time yet.”
“I hope so.” She cut herself off before she voiced the rest:He’s all I have. “This has been a terrific day for him. For me, too. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” They were alone on the bridge now, the lines secured, the plank down and the passengers disembarking. “You’ll come again.”
“I don’t think I could keep Kevin away. I’d better go down with them.”
“They’re fine.” He stepped closer, before she could evade. “You know, Meg, you forget to be nervous when the kids are around.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“Jumpy as a fish on a line. It was a pure pleasure watching your face when we sighted whale. It’s a pure pleasure anytime, but when you’re laughing and the wind’s in your hair, it could stop a man’s heart.”
He took another step and backed her up against the wheel. Maybe it wasn’t fair, but he’d think about that later. It was going to take him a good long time to forget the way she’d felt, her back pressed against him, her hands soft and hesitant under his.
“Of course, there’s something to be said about the way you’re looking right now. All eyes. You’ve got the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Then there’s all that peaches-and-cream.” He lifted a finger to her cheek, skimmed it down. She felt as though she’d stepped on a live wire. “Makes a man crave a nice long taste.”
“I’m not susceptible to flattery.” She’d wanted to sound firm and dismissive, not breathless.
“Just stating a fact.” He leaned down until his mouth was a whisper from hers. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, you’d better tell me not to.”
She would have. Absolutely. If she’d been able to speak. But then his mouth was on hers, warm and firm and every bit as clever as his hands. She would tell herself later that her lips had parted with shock, to protest. But it was a lie.
They opened greedily, with a surge of hunger that went deep, that echoed on a groan that a woman might make who had her first sampling of rich cream after years of thin water.
Her body refused to go rigid in denial, instead humming like a harp string freshly plucked. Her hands dived into his hair and urged him to take the kiss deeper.
He’d expected a cool response, or at least a hesitant one. Perhaps he’d seen a flash of passion in her eyes, deep down, like the heat and rumble in the core of a volcano that seems dormant from the surface.
But nothing had prepared him for this blast of fire.
His mind went blank, then filled with woman. The scent and feel and taste of her, the sound of the moan that caught in her throat when he nipped on her full lower lip. He dragged her closer, craving more, and had the dizzying delight of feeling every slim curve and line of Megan pressed against his body.
The scent of the ocean through the window had him imagining taking her on some deserted beach, while the surf pounded and the gulls screamed.
She felt herself sinking and gripped him for balance. There was too much, much too much, rioting through her system. It would take a great deal more than the little bands around her wrist to level her now.
It would take control, willpower, and most of all... remembering.
She drew back, would have stumbled if his arms hadn’t stayed clamped around her. “No.”
He couldn’t get his breath. He told himself he would analyze later why one kiss had knocked him flat, like a two-fisted punch. “You’ll have to be more specific. No to what?”
“To this. To any of this.” Panic kicked in and had her struggling away. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Me, neither. It’s a good sign you’re doing it right, if you stop thinking when you’re kissing.”
“I don’t want you to kiss me.”
