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race her there, laughing with every step. But now, with Nora, he felt like a cross between Tarzan and a groom on his wedding day. He felt like the Initiator of Virgins and it was such a turn-on, he could barely draw breath.
    He lifted her up high against his chest, caught her small sound of exclamation, and kissed her. He could kiss her forever, every day, every hour even. “You won’t be sorry, I swear. I’ll make this so good for you.”
    “I know.”
    When he reached the French doors, she pulled them open and Cary swept inside, a romantic figure to the core. “Which way?”
    Appearing a tad overwhelmed, Nora said, “Um, down the hall, last door on the right.”
    It wasn’t easy, but he accomplished a sedate walk rather than a run. He even kissed her twice again without getting carried away. He didn’t stop and take her against the wall, or on the floor, as was his basic inclination, given the level of his need.
    Her bedroom door stood open, her bed unmade and rumpled. “Wet suits,” Cary told her, forcing himself to logic. This was almost like her first time, close enough that he wanted it to be special, so close he was the one trembling like a virgin—with anticipation. Sopping sheets would add nothing to the ambiance for either of them. He stood her on her feet to strip her.
    She shied away—but he drew her right back. “I want to see you, Nora. All of you. And I want you to see me.”
    “You do?”
    Trying to curb the drumming of lust, he said, “Of course I do. I’ve dreamed of seeing you naked.”
    Heat flared in her cheeks. “But you want me to see you, too?”
    See me, touch me, lick me … He groaned. “Yeah.”
    “Oh.”
    He cleared his throat. “I want you to want me.”
    “I do.”
    Thank God. He angled closer, reached behind her, and slowly unhooked her bra top. The cups loosened from her breasts. He untied the string around her neck and the bathing suit top fell between them. Cary pulled it away and dropped it to the carpet. He couldn’t breathe. Her breasts were …well, they were Nora’s breasts, soft and pale, her nipples puckered tight. He bent and drew one into his mouth, sucking gently.
    With pleasure as much as embarrassment, Nora gasped. Her hands settled in his hair, tangled there, held him tight. Cary spread his hands wide over her back to keep her close. Her skin was cool in the air-conditioned interior, soft and sleek. He spanned her waist, her hips. Gliding his fingers into her trunks, he pushed them off her rounded bottom, then went to one knee and tugged them the rest of the way down her legs.
    Bad move.
    He was now eye level with her belly, or more importantly, her soft pubic curls. She was still damp from the swim. Her scent was delicious, making him want so much more, far too soon.
    She pressed her thighs tight together and covered herself with her hands.
    Hoarse, Cary said, “Step out of your bottoms.”
    She did, awkwardly, her limbs stiff, her hands still shielding her from his gaze. Seeing her hands there just brought about a ton of sexual fantasies. He should have stood back up at that point, but he couldn’t. He cupped her bare, plump bottom, kneaded her for a moment while he argued with himself—and lost.
    He leaned forward and kissed her knuckles.
    “Cary.”
    Holding her close, he used his tongue to trace between her fingers, down, back up, flicking just a bit over the middle knuckle of her right hand. He wished she’d part her fingers just a bit, maybe let him …
    She stumbled back against the mattress.
    In a red haze of lust, Cary stood and looked at her. She now had one hand covering her left breast, the other hand over her sex, and he was so hard he could have been lethal. Holding her gaze, he shoved his clinging wet boxers down and off, then kicked them away. He straightened, letting her look her fill.
    She nearly went cross-eyed as she stared fixedly at his face.
    “Look at me, Nora.”
    After a few breaths to shore her up, her gaze darted to his