Page 86 of The Runaway Bride of Blossom Branch

“Amen.” A rumble of laughter accompanied the single, wry word.

She wanted to ask if he’d really had a crush on her once upon a time.

So many things she wanted to ask. But icebergs were dangerous. Best not to get too close or go too deep. “You seemed in a hurry when we were in the kitchen,” she teased.

He pinched her butt, hard enough to sting. “I’m practicing patience. And foreplay.”

Cate laughed softly. “I’m ready. So ready. You’ve turned me into a puddle of goo.”

“I thought that was the ice cream.” He stepped back and cupped her breasts, his gaze reverent.

“That, too.” She shivered when her nipple received a butterfly caress. “Oh, Harry...”

He kissed her lazily but with great effect. “Did you hear that?” he whispered, using the tip of his tongue to trace the shell of her ear.

“Hear what?”

“My patience shattering in a million damn pieces.”

“Thank goodness.” She didn’t wait for him this time. She scrambled into the bed and patted the mattress. “I saved your spot.”

Harry shucked his briefs and joined her. When she launched herself into his arms, they both sighed. “I may be addicted to your body,” he said, his tone conversational as he played with her butt.

“The feeling is mutual.” Cate measured the width of his shoulders with her hands, felt the fascinating interplay of muscle and skin and bone.

“It’s a shame we have to go back to Blossom Branch in the morning,” he said. “I’d like to keep you in this bed for a week straight.”

Cate closed her eyes as a wave of longing spread from where her heart thumped in her chest all the way to her belly and beyond. “You wouldn’t want to miss all the excitement,” she mumbled, hardly able to speak.

Harry took her hair in one big hand and used it to pull her head to one side. Then he sank his teeth into the tender flesh of her neck. “We’ll make our own excitement, Catie-girl. I promise.”

This time was very different. Not different bad or even different good. Just different. Harry seemed more relaxed, though no less focused on the end game. He gave her that orgasm she had missed and one more besides.

Then—when she was still trying to catch her breath—he entered her slowly. The aftershocks from her climax were magnified.

He rolled to his back, taking her with him. “This is a nice view,” he said, his eyes gleaming.

“Um...” Cate wasn’t comfortable enough with him yet for this level of intimacy, but he wasn’t giving her much choice.

He captured her wrists in a firm grip and held them behind her back. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

“No...” This was embarrassing...having Harry study her nude body so intently.

“I used to think you looked like an angel. We had one at the top of our Christmas tree.”

“But?”

“But that was before I saw you as a living, breathing woman. You’re stubborn and brave and kind. And you have a temper, I think, though maybe you hide it well.”

“Pot. Kettle.” She pouted.

When she tried to free her arms, his hold tightened. “Not so fast.”

He was buried deep inside her. Cate’s body hummed with the feeling of helplessness. She knew he would release her if she asked.

For now, she enjoyed the kick of trepidation.

Harry sat up, cradling her in his arms. In this position, he claimed her, he owned her. She was a vulnerable woman yielding to a man. Yet this was her choice.

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