A Diamond In The Rough. Catherine Mann

would drape you in gems, design entire lines of jewelry dedicated to your beauty.”

      “Who knew you were poetic?”

      “You inspire me.”

      She stroked up his arms. “I’m just as happy with wildflowers and bluebonnets. That day we made love in the open and you covered me in petals is one of my all-time favorite memories.”

      “Another reason you’re special. I never have to wonder with you. I know you’re here—or not here—based on me. It has nothing to do with my family or our money.” He plucked the strings behind her neck. The top fell away, revealing her breasts, pert and a perfect fit in his palms.

      “You’re a savvy man,” she gasped, her nipples beading against his hands, either from his touch or the cool swoosh of the air conditioner. “I imagine you see through the sycophants right away.”

      “That discernment came from practice.” He thumbed along her taut peaks, teasing them tighter until she swayed ever so slightly.

      She covered his hands with hers. “You shouldn’t have to wonder about people that way. Thinking of you wondering, learning from practice—that makes me so sad.”

      “I definitely don’t want you sad right now—or ever.” He hooked his thumbs in the strings along her hips and snapped them before the thought formed in his mind.

      Her swimsuit bottom fell away.

      She kicked aside the scrap of fabric. “If I were the sort of woman who wanted to be draped only in jewels, what would you design for me?”

      “Ah, now you’re talking.” He let his imagination take flight. “I’ve always liked yellow diamonds for you. I can see long earrings that trail in a sleek, thin cascade to your shoulders.” He skimmed each spot with a kiss. “Each piece would echo the golden lines of your beautiful body. And a long, gold rope chain with a pendant that trails right...here...between...”

      His mouth landed along the inside of one curve, then the other. Her breath hitched, her fingers twisting in the band of his swim trunks. Tugging at the elastic, she peeled the damp suit down and off into a pile around his feet.

      He stepped out and then swept her up against his chest. “And since the jewelry would be for our eyes only, I dream of you in more erotic designs, as well.”

      “Oh, really?” She looped her arms around his neck. “I can’t decide whether to be nervous or intrigued.”

      One step at a time, he carried her closer to the white iron bed with a view of the water. “A thicker rope chain would circle low on your waist, resting on your hips.”

      “Ah, like a lasso.” She thumbed his tattoo. “That works both ways, you know. I could pull you to me, especially perfect if you wore chaps and nothing more.”

      He arched an eyebrow. “Not very businesslike.”

      “We’re not in the boardroom.”

      “True.” He tossed her onto the mattress.

      She landed with an enticing bounce that made all the right parts jiggle just a hint. She stretched out along the puffy quilt, her creamy shoulders propped up by a pile of seashell-patterned pillows.

      Part of him wanted to take in the sight of her for hours on end, and another more urgent part of him couldn’t delay any longer. He kneeled on the edge of the bed and crawled up over her, tasting his way up her bared flesh, along her stomach, teasing the diamond belly button ring with his teeth. Higher still, he took her breast in his mouth, rolling the nipple with his tongue until her needy sighs begged him for more, faster, sooner.

      He glanced up to see her head thrown back, pushing into the pillows. From the flush blooming over her skin he knew she was close to coming apart. He understood the urgent sensation well and slid the rest of the way up to take her lips, his erection nudging against the slick core of her. Ready. For him. Just as he was ready for her, only her, always her.

      With a hoarse growl, he thrust deep inside her.

      Gasping, she grabbed his shoulders. “Stone, wait.” She gripped harder, her fingernails digging into his flesh. “What about protection?”

      He arched back to look into her eyes. “Aren’t you on the pill?”

      “Not anymore,” she said. “Once we broke up and it was clear we weren’t going to reconcile, I stopped taking it.”

      She’d thought about reconciling with him? For how long? How many opportunities had he missed to get her back only to lose her because of stubborn pride?

      Have her back?

      Wasn’t this just about sex now?

      All thoughts too weighty for him to consider with his brain muddled from being buried to the hilt inside her again.

      He hadn’t packed condoms.... And if they discussed this much further it was going to lead to a serious mood buster of a conversation. He rolled off her with a groan of frustration.

      Johanna sat up with a gasp. “Wait.” She snapped her fingers. “I saw some in the honeymooners’ welcome basket on the bedside table.”

      Crisis averted. Thank heavens the staff had assumed they would need the romance special basket. He stayed on his side while Johanna raced into the living area, and yes, he enjoyed the hell out of the view. He’d dreamed of her, but fantasies couldn’t come close to the reality of being here with her.

      The sound of rustling carried from the next room before she returned. Grinning, she held a condom in one hand and a plump pear in the other. She sank her teeth into the fruit and tossed him the square packet. He snatched it out of midair then grabbed her wrist to tug her back into bed with him.

      Laughing, she settled on top of him and pressed the pear against his mouth. He took a bite, then set the fruit aside to have her. Johanna. His again.

      He flipped her onto her back and thrust inside her. Gasping, she closed her eyes and welcomed him with a roll of her hips. Her legs wrapped around him, her heels digging in and urging him deeper, faster, leaving no room for misunderstanding. She wanted him, too, with the same hungry edge. He kissed her hard and insistent, the taste of pear mingling with the sweet warmth of her.

      He knew her body as well as he knew his own. He’d made a point of learning each sensitive spot and how to tease her pleasure higher. And she’d done the same for him.

      Touch for touch, they moved in synch with each other. Her hands roved a restless path until perspiration dotted his forehead in spite of the ocean breeze gusting through the window.

      Wind chimes sang louder and louder as if kicked up by a spring storm. He whispered in her ear about husky fantasies built during nights apart, silver links binding them together, jewels hidden and found. Her panting replies—her yes, yes, yes riding each gasp—stoked the fire in him higher until his whole body felt like molten metal in a flame.

      And just when he thought he couldn’t hold out any longer before the heat consumed them both, Johanna flew apart in his arms. Her cries of completion rolled free, as uninhibited and natural as the woman in his arms. The sweet clamp of her body pulsing around him sent him over the edge with her.

      As wave after wave crashed over him, he held her closer, absorbing her aftershocks as he slowly came back down to earth again. His arms gave way, and he rolled to his side, taking her with him.

      With the wind kicking up a humid breeze and rain pattering outside, he willed his galloping heartbeat to return to normal. Except his hammering pulse wasn’t cooperating. With each slug against his ribs, he knew.

      He couldn’t give Johanna up again, but there wasn’t a chance in hell she would stay with him if she knew the worst of what he’d held back, the reason he absolutely could not fulfill her dreams and become the father of her children.

      * * *

      Johanna woke up to an empty bed.

      She