Propositioned By The Tycoon. Yvonne Lindsay

third stroke had her stirring with his name on her lips, the sound escaping in a strangled cry of sheer need.

      There wasn’t any just-woke-up confusion about Catherine. There never had been. She went from a dead sleep to aroused woman in the blink of an eye. Her arms circled his neck and she pulled him in for a hot, hungry kiss. He didn’t need further prompting. He rolled over on top of her, sinking into her warmth.

      He’d planned to give her a moment to adjust to both his weight and his embrace. But she took the initiative. Hooking a leg around his waist, she anchored him close and deepened the kiss. In this area they’d always been in perfect accord, each the perfect mate for the other. Her lips parted and he delved inward, stoking the heat. He could feel her tremble in response to his touch, feel her heartbeat pounding against his palm, and his own pulse caught the rapid-fire rhythm and echoed it.

      Need ripened between them, escalating with dizzying speed. As though sensing it, she ended the kiss with a small, nipping tug of his bottom lip. “Not so fast.” The request was half plea, half demand. “Give me time to think.”

      “Forget it, Catherine. No more waiting. This is all that matters,” he told her fiercely. Once again he plied her lips with small, biting kisses while his hands traversed sweetly familiar pathways that had been left unexplored for far too long. “This is what’s important. What we feel right here and right now.”

      “I wish that were true.” Her breath hitched when he reacquainted himself with a particularly vulnerable curve of skin, just along the outer swell of her breast. “But we can’t just forget what came before. What about my reasons for leaving you? What about all the empty space during the time we were apart? As enjoyable as it will be, knotting up the bedsheets isn’t going to make all our problems go away.”

      “But it’ll ground us,” he maintained. “It’ll give us a common base from which to work.” He swept his hand across her heated flesh to prove his point, watching as her eyes glazed and her breath exploded. “We were meant to be together.”

      She managed to shake her head, but he could see the effort it took her. If he pressed, she’d cave. And though parts of him wanted her any way he could have her, the rational part of his brain preferred her willing, not fighting regrets. He leaned in and gave her another wickedly slow, thorough kiss before easing back.

      She eyed him in open suspicion, while she probed her swollen lips with the tip of her tongue. “Are they smoking? They feel like they’re smoking.”

      He choked on a laugh. How did she do it? How did she take him from overwhelming hunger to heart-melting amusement with one simple question? “Your lips aren’t smoking, but your tongue is. Just a little around the edges.” He leaned in. “I can show you where. Make it all better.”

      Now it was her turn to laugh. “I’ll just bet.” She closed her eyes. “You make it impossible to think.”

      “Then don’t.” He couldn’t keep his hands off her. “Just feel.”

      “That’s not smart. Nor is it safe.”

      “I won’t hurt you, Cate.”

      He felt the tremor that shook her, the quiver of remembered pain. “You already have,” she whispered.

      “Let me heal some of that hurt.”

      His offer provoked tears and they glittered in her eyes like gold dust. He didn’t know if he’d said the right thing, or the wrong. He just knew it was honest, welling from the very core of him. Her arms slid up along his chest in response and she cupped his face. This time she initiated the embrace. It was her lips that sought his and slid like a quiet balm over his mouth. She probed with a delicacy unique to her, dancing lightly. Sweetly. Tenderly.

      Just as he’d reacquainted himself with the dip and swell, the remarkable texture and scent, now so did she. Her hands cruised along his back, testing far harder planes and angles than those he’d examined. “This is where you carry it,” she told him between kisses. “The weight of your responsibilities.”

      He trailed his fingers along her shoulders, scooping up the narrow straps of her nightgown and teasing them down her arms. “I’m strong. I can take a lot of weight.”

      “Not right now. Right now I want you right here. With me. No responsibilities. No interruptions. Just the two of us.”

      Didn’t she understand? “There’s nowhere else for me to be.” And he’d find a way to prove it.

      He painted a series of kisses along the lacy edge of her nightgown where it dipped low over her breasts, and nudged the flimsy barrier from his path. He nearly groaned at the feel of satiny skin against his mouth and cheek. Her breasts were glorious, small, firm, and beautifully shaped, but then so was she. He caught her nipple between his teeth and tugged ever so gently, watching the wash of color that blossomed across her skin and turned her face a delicate shade of rose.

      “Your eyes have gone dark,” he told her. “Like antique gold.”

      “They haven’t gone dark.” Her breath escaped in a wispy groan. “They’ve gone blind.”

      “You don’t need to see. Just feel.”

      More than anything, he wanted to make this perfect for her. To heal some of what had gone before. As much as he wanted to take her, to bury himself in her warmth and create that ultimate joining, this first time would be for her. He’d give her slow. He’d give her gentle. And he’d give her the healing she so desperately craved.

      He danced with her, danced with mouth and hands and quiet caresses, driving her ever higher toward that elusive pinnacle. The air grew thick and heavy with need, tightening around them until all that existed was man and woman and the desire that bound two into one. He drove her, ever upward, knowing just how to touch, just where to stroke until her muscles clenched and she hovered on the crest.

      And then he mated their bodies, kissing away the helpless tears that clung to her lashes like a dusting of diamonds. Slow and easy he moved, sliding her up and up and up, before tipping her over and tumbling down the other side with her. For a long time afterward they clung to each other, wrapped together in a slick tangle of limp arms and legs.

      “I can’t remember how to breathe,” he managed to say.

      “Funny. I can’t remember how to move.” She opened a single eye.“ If I breathe for you, can you move for me?”

      “I’ll get right on that.” He groaned. “Tomorrow, maybe.”

      “Okay.” She fell silent for so long he thought she’d gone back to sleep. Then she asked, “Why, Gabe?”

      “Why, what?” he asked lazily.

      She opened her eyes, eyes clear and bright and glittering like the sun. “You were always a generous lover. But this morning…This morning was a gift.”

      He grinned. “Then just accept it and say thank you.”

      “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      “It makes me wonder, though…” A small frown creased her brow, like a thundercloud creeping over the horizon. “Where do we go from here? What do you want from me?”

      He answered honestly. “Whatever you’re willing to give.”

      She absorbed that, turned it over in her mind, before nodding. “That’s easy enough. I can’t give you permanent, but I can give you temporary. We can enjoy each other these next few months. I don’t have a problem with that.”

      His jaw tightened. “And then?”

      Something about her easy smile rang false. “Then we go our separate ways, of course. We tried living together once. It didn’t work, remember?”

      How could she lie beneath him and act as though what they felt was transient? Didn’t she feel the connection, the way their bodies fused one to the other? The way their minds and spirits were so evenly