Free Carolina Heart by Virginia Kantra Page A

coarse, dark hair. Her fingers trembled with eagerness. His skin was warm and firm, denser than hers, a feast of textures. She wanted to bury her nose in his chest, wanted to lose herself in him and never come out.
    She reached for his belt, yanking at the buckle.
    His hands caught hers. “Sweetheart.”
    She ignored him, intent on uncovering her prize.
    “Cynthie.” His touch, his voice firmed. “We can’t. I don’t have a condom.”
    So he hadn’t taken this for granted. He wasn’t taking her for granted. She melted a little more. “I do. I got it from my bedroom when I ditched my underwear.” She shrugged. “Not very romantic.”
    His gaze met hers. His eyes were deep and dark and hot. “I get to be with you. That’s all the romance I need.”
    His words shot straight to her heart and quivered there. She had never felt so cherished. So vulnerable. She hid her face in his neck.
    His large, clever hands stroked her hair, tilted her head. “You are so beautiful.”
    She trembled as his mouth found hers. They kissed, long, greedy kisses, until her body flushed and shuddered and her heart ached and yearned and her mind emptied of everything but this, Max making love to her in the near dark.
    He nuzzled her breasts as she kneeled above him, his breath searing, his mouth searching through her soft cotton dress. She shoved his jeans open and down, the rough denim abrading her thighs. His fingers stroked her, opened her, as she wrapped herself around him, desperate to feel him, flooded with heat and need. She lifted up. He pulled her down, pushing hard inside her. The shock rocked them both. Pleasure filled her, thick and hot, rushing along her veins. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, and then he drove into her again and she did cry out, the sound spilling from her like joy. She rocked to his rhythm, feeling him slick and hot inside her, taking her pleasure, absorbing his. Her butt clenched. Her breath sobbed in relief and gratitude.
This. Yes. And this. Now.
He thrust up, his hands hard, stroking her inside and out, and she clutched his shoulders, shaking, quaking, coming again and again.
    Until he turned his lips into her throat, his fingers gripping her butt, and followed her.
    *   *   *
    THEY sprawled, tangled, skin to skin, glued together by sweat and satisfaction, until their breathing calmed and their heartbeats matched and slowed.
    Cynthie released a long, shuddery sigh. “Wow.”
    He stroked her hair back from her face, a faint tremor in his hand, the aftershocks of desire. “That good? Or that bad?”
    “Good. But . . .” His shoulder tensed under her cheek. She pushed herself up to meet his gaze, dark and steady in the uneven moonlight. “It’s like chocolate ice cream.” Or a bottle of wine that cost more than six dollars. Like something she’d done only for herself, a selfish indulgence she couldn’t afford every day.
    “Let’s say you’re on a diet. You want chocolate ice cream,” she explained earnestly. “So you tell yourself,
It’s just this once, you’ll only have a little
. You know, to treat yourself after a lousy day. But then you start eating, and, ohmigod, it’s like the best ice cream ever, and you can’t stop eating.”
    He grinned up at her, his lean face suddenly relaxing. “You can have as much as you want, sweetheart. Though I might need a couple minutes here. We’re not in high school anymore.”
    She struggled to sit, to find her balance against the tide of temptation. “That’s the point. I have the girls to think about now. I have responsibilities. I can’t go around—”
    He raised his brows. “Eating ice cream?”
    “—whenever I want.”
    He rearranged her weight on top of him, coaxing her head down onto his shoulder. “That’s okay. I get it. Your kids have to be your first priority.”
    He held her a long, wordless time, his breath at her temple, the steady thud of his heartbeat under her palms. Gradually, she relaxed, melting into his