covering his mouth, kissed it, even as he smiled. "For someone so new at this, you do have a way with words."
"I might lack experience, but I'm no shrinking violet."
"Thank God," he murmured, and taking her head between his hands, he lifted her face to his. "Thank God," he whispered again as his mouth found hers with a kiss hot enough to warp steel.
Willow folded into him, her heart stopped, breath gone, will tattered. Her tongue danced with his, and the heat of it awed them both. As one, they shuddered and parted.
Willy started to pull her dress off her shoulder.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm taking off my clothes. It is a prerequisite, isn't it?"
"Too bad you're such a shy little thing."
Her smile was both impudent and confident. "According to Henri, I've got nothing to be shy about."
He stayed the hand pulling at the dress. "On that score Henri is right, but there are some things a man would rather do himself."
"Oh. Right." She made a grimace. "Trying too hard, huh?"
"You're nervous."
"I'm not—"
He touched her lips to silence her and ran a hand up to her shoulder, returning the dress to its previous position. "You are nervous—and so am I. The difference is I've been down this road before."
"Would that be a back lane or Route 66?"
"Funny." He rubbed a thumb across her lower lip.
Willow smiled. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"
"Sure of myself, yes. You, no. You scare the hell out of me."
"Good. I wouldn't want it any other way." She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her long body to his, and smiled into his eyes. "Now, how about we test drive all that confidence of yours."
Taylor kissed her again, his mouth sweeping over hers with only whispers of seduction. His arms encircled her, held her close. Close enough their heartbeats were one. Rapid and pounding. The kiss was leisurely, his mouth coaxing as if he had all the time in the world.
Never had a kiss done such crazy things to her. Never had she been in a man's arms wanting more. And more.
She inhaled the subtle scent of his aftershave, leaves and leather, the even subtler scent of him. Taylor the man. Indefinable. With a soft murmur he moved his mouth to her throat, her ear. This was where her brain cut out, where she bent her head, exposing more of her neck—even as her knees went molasses soft.
Gently he drew her arms from around his neck.
"Not here." His voice had a new husky quality.
Weak from his kisses, she took a deep breath and followed him to the bedroom. Two steps in and her yellow-belly brain kicked in, started firing thoughts at her like shrapnel. Negative analytic thoughts. She fought back.
This is the right thing to do, so you can just shut up. I've thought it through. No need for second guesses. It's the right time. The right place and—oh boy, is it the right man! I couldn't not do this if I tried. It's not as if I've fallen in love with him or gotten all gaga. I only want him—temporarily. I can handle this. Brain sneered and said, you're being a dumbass, but go ahead. We'll deal with it later.
For a second, she tensed, and Taylor, sensing it, stopped near the foot of the bed.
"Second thoughts?" He lifted one brow to look at her.
"Not a one," she braved.
He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. Sinuous strands of heat curled up her arms. Oh, yes. Definitely the right man. She closed her eyes.
When she opened them, Taylor was standing near the bed. He leaned over and with one hand switched on the bedside lamp, his other holding hers tightly. When the dim light sheeted across the bed, it cast them both in a pale shadow.
"Now. About this dress." There was light in his eyes, hot and quizzical. "I've been wondering about something since you stepped out of the bathroom before dinner, and now I'm going to find out."
He took her face in his hands and kissed her softly. His hands followed the curve of her throat, downward to her shoulders, insinuating warm fingers between the stretchy fabric of
"I might lack experience, but I'm no shrinking violet."
"Thank God," he murmured, and taking her head between his hands, he lifted her face to his. "Thank God," he whispered again as his mouth found hers with a kiss hot enough to warp steel.
Willow folded into him, her heart stopped, breath gone, will tattered. Her tongue danced with his, and the heat of it awed them both. As one, they shuddered and parted.
Willy started to pull her dress off her shoulder.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm taking off my clothes. It is a prerequisite, isn't it?"
"Too bad you're such a shy little thing."
Her smile was both impudent and confident. "According to Henri, I've got nothing to be shy about."
He stayed the hand pulling at the dress. "On that score Henri is right, but there are some things a man would rather do himself."
"Oh. Right." She made a grimace. "Trying too hard, huh?"
"You're nervous."
"I'm not—"
He touched her lips to silence her and ran a hand up to her shoulder, returning the dress to its previous position. "You are nervous—and so am I. The difference is I've been down this road before."
"Would that be a back lane or Route 66?"
"Funny." He rubbed a thumb across her lower lip.
Willow smiled. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"
"Sure of myself, yes. You, no. You scare the hell out of me."
"Good. I wouldn't want it any other way." She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her long body to his, and smiled into his eyes. "Now, how about we test drive all that confidence of yours."
Taylor kissed her again, his mouth sweeping over hers with only whispers of seduction. His arms encircled her, held her close. Close enough their heartbeats were one. Rapid and pounding. The kiss was leisurely, his mouth coaxing as if he had all the time in the world.
Never had a kiss done such crazy things to her. Never had she been in a man's arms wanting more. And more.
She inhaled the subtle scent of his aftershave, leaves and leather, the even subtler scent of him. Taylor the man. Indefinable. With a soft murmur he moved his mouth to her throat, her ear. This was where her brain cut out, where she bent her head, exposing more of her neck—even as her knees went molasses soft.
Gently he drew her arms from around his neck.
"Not here." His voice had a new husky quality.
Weak from his kisses, she took a deep breath and followed him to the bedroom. Two steps in and her yellow-belly brain kicked in, started firing thoughts at her like shrapnel. Negative analytic thoughts. She fought back.
This is the right thing to do, so you can just shut up. I've thought it through. No need for second guesses. It's the right time. The right place and—oh boy, is it the right man! I couldn't not do this if I tried. It's not as if I've fallen in love with him or gotten all gaga. I only want him—temporarily. I can handle this. Brain sneered and said, you're being a dumbass, but go ahead. We'll deal with it later.
For a second, she tensed, and Taylor, sensing it, stopped near the foot of the bed.
"Second thoughts?" He lifted one brow to look at her.
"Not a one," she braved.
He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. Sinuous strands of heat curled up her arms. Oh, yes. Definitely the right man. She closed her eyes.
When she opened them, Taylor was standing near the bed. He leaned over and with one hand switched on the bedside lamp, his other holding hers tightly. When the dim light sheeted across the bed, it cast them both in a pale shadow.
"Now. About this dress." There was light in his eyes, hot and quizzical. "I've been wondering about something since you stepped out of the bathroom before dinner, and now I'm going to find out."
He took her face in his hands and kissed her softly. His hands followed the curve of her throat, downward to her shoulders, insinuating warm fingers between the stretchy fabric of
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