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erection for a two-second peek. But apparently that didn’t suffice, because her attention shot downward again, where it lingered and warmed. Her lips parted.
    Hoarse, Cary murmured, “Let me feel you.” He removed her glasses and set them on the nightstand, then carried her trembling hands to his shoulders. This time when he pulled her into his arms, there were no barriers. Flesh to flesh, heartbeat to heartbeat. Her nipples rubbed his ribs, her thighs shifted against his. His swollen cock nudged against her silky belly.
    He felt cocooned in her softness, her musky female scent, her timidity and sex appeal. He closed his eyes and pressed his face into her throat, overcome with emotions he’d never dealt with before. He wanted to ravish her. He wanted to absorb her into himself.
    He had to keep his head to ensure she enjoyed this. He wanted her to see how wonderful their lovemaking would be. He wanted her to crave more, of him and the pleasure he’d give her.
    Taking her mouth with premeditated tenderness, Cary lowered them both to the bed. For long minutes, he just kissed her, sometimes rolling on top of her so she could become accustomed to his weight, sometimes turning so she was atop him, letting her move as she pleased. He kissed her gently, not so gently, deep and slow, wild and wet. But he kept his hands on safe ground—her shoulders, her waist. He held her face, smoothed her hair, teased her nape. And when she was quivering, filling his head with small gasps and making him nuts with the way she writhed against him, he laid her on her back and cupped her breasts.
    She arched, firming his hold, giving him more. She was firm, round, and so damn soft. Cary kissed his way down her throat, her chest, until his mouth again closed over one taut nipple.
    “Oh God.”
    Her fingers held his skull, drawing him closer, encouraging him. With leisurely intent, he suckled one nipple while plying the other with his thumb. He shook worse than she did. Restraint, he discovered, was not an easy thing. In fact, it was pure hell. Especially now, because he’d never suffered this level of burning lust before. And here he’d thought he knew all about it. Damn, but it was different with Nora. Hotter and sweeter, so intense. His whole body strained to be closer, to be inside her.
    He knew he wouldn’t be able to wait much longer, and he needed to know if she was ready. He pressed his hand between their bodies, low on her belly, his fingers splayed. She didn’t freeze up on him. In fact, she squirmed, trying to get his fingers where she wanted them. Cary lifted up and looked at her face. Eyes closed, head tilted back, she appeared wanton and ready. Utterly beautiful.
    “You’ll like this,” he told her. With the heel of his palm pressed to the top of her mound, he petted her with his fingertips, slow, easy, gentle. Just stroking.
    She moaned and lifted her hips.
    With his middle finger, he parted her—and felt her distended clitoris, ripe and ready, so sensitive. She was creamy wet, swollen, very near the edge. Heat raged through him. He locked his jaw, tensed his shoulders against the driving need, and stroked with just one fingertip, teasing, easing her deeper into the moment.
    “Cary,” she whispered on a thin breath of sound, then her back arched hard and she gave a long, raw moan.
    Like a wire pulled too tight, Cary snapped. Two fingers sank deep into her, pulled out, and thrust again, preparing her, widening her. She was so tight, her inner muscles clasping at his fingers, that he knew he’d die when he got inside her.
    Before he even knew what he was doing, he was over her, catching her knees, pulling her legs apart. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—hell, he couldn’t even see straight. But he felt her small frantic hands, dragging him down so she could kiss and lick his mouth, her silken thighs wrapping tight around him.
    Blindly, he positioned himself and thrust hard.
    She bowed beneath him, crying out but