The Best Mistake of Her Life by Aimee Carson Page B

“How?” he asked, and then he shed his underwear and she bit her lip at the raw glory, the pure masculine form primed and intent on her.
    Her voice was husky. “That was a good start.”
    “I’m thinking I need a few more details,” he said, his hot gaze intense as he took the last step separating them, the long, lean, wonderfully muscled body so close she could feel his heat. “What else does Kate Anderson want?”
    “For you to make love to me in every room of this house?” An embarrassing amount of hope radiated in her tone.
    “I’m in good shape—” He leaned in for a kiss that sent her spiraling, his tongue taking a quick taste of hers before he pulled his head back. “But I don’t think even my stamina is up to that kind of endurance test.”
    She wrapped her arms around his neck, desperate to keep him close. “It’s been so long I might finish before you get started,” she said, hoping he’d take the hint.
    Without a word, not bothering with the bed covered in clothes, Memphis dragged her down to the thick carpet as he threaded his fingers into her hair, tilting her head so he could take her mouth again. And, this time, the intent behind it was clear. The fusion of lips and heat and tongue held a determined quality that made it clear that Memphis wasn’t going to stop until he was through. Kate nearly cried in relief. Mouth on hers, he skimmed one hand down to strokeher skin, caress a breast, lingering a moment to tease the tip until she was ablaze.
    And then his hand began to drift lower.
    But she burned for more than just his fingers. “I want—”
    As expected, the first second he touched her between the legs, pleasure flared. She instinctively arched, allowing him better access. The following second, his fingers skillfully began to tease her into wanting more. Which was hysterical, not to mention totally unnecessary, because on the third second she came.
    With a burst of bottle rockets, fiery sparkles of heat shot to every corner of her body, leaving little sizzles fizzling in their wake, her limbs warm and heavy and limp.
    Heart pounding, soul singing, she closed her eyes and whispered, “I told you.”
    “It might have something to do with the months trying to make do in sexual solitary confinement.”
    Talk was the last thing on her mind, especially this discussion.
    Several moments passed before Memphis spoke again. “Kate,” he murmured. When she lifted her lids, his gaze was close. “Did you think about our time together during those nights you spent satisfying yourself?”
    “Sometimes,” she said.
    Always
.
    His eyes were a disturbingly burn-the-roof-of-your-mouth melted caramel. “Show me.”
    Her mind balked. “I can’t—”
    Memphis took her hand and slid it down between her legs. Fingers pressed over hers, he began to apply the same skill as before, but it was difficult to tell where she began and he ended. Warmth swamped her body and moisture flooded her center as the pleasure climbed higher, until her body screamed for a more satisfying contact.
    “Memphis,” she said, her voice breathless. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
    Elbow propped on the floor beside her head, their laced fingers caressing her clitoris, Memphis thrust deep between her legs.
    The sensation was profound, much more than physical. For the first time in she couldn’t remember when, she didn’t feel so alone. This man knew her better than anyone—even those she loved the most.
    Their entwined fingers and locked hips began to move together, establishing an agonizingly sensual rhythm. It was impossible not to drift between the delicious memory of their night long ago, the months of fantasies and the even better here and now—his hard body, the firm plane of chest muscles shifting beautifully with his efforts. Their contact limited to their laced fingers and their rocking hips, the coordinated movements created an intensity that was clearly meant as an attempt to compensate for all the nights