moment his lips left hers. He smelled like summer and spice and man. Pressing one hand over his chest, she spread her fingers wide over his heart, inching upward to his neck. On somelevel she was conscious of the whisker stubble on his cheek, of the broad bones and taut skin along his jaw, of the narrow little dip in the center of his chin, but she was more conscious of the warmth that was weakening her knees, and the desire that was quickly spinning out of control.
His lips left hers. Covering her hand with his, he brought it to his mouth, pressing a kiss into her palm. Hannahâs eyes opened dreamily, his features blurring slightly, the dark blue of his eyes turning hazy and deep.
âYouâre beautiful.â
This close, her features had to be as blurry as his. It didnât matter. She wasnât beautiful, not the way her mother and Maria were, but that didnât matter, either. Because he was making her feel beautiful, and every woman alive knew that that mattered a great deal.
Lowering from her tiptoes, she said, âAre you sure I canât get you anything?â
âYou can show me to the bedroom.â
âI could.â She made no move to do it, though.
âHannah?â
She chanced a glance up at him, and slowly shook her head. âIâm trying to think of the right words to make you understand.â
âI understand the attraction thatâs between us. You canât deny that you feel it, too.â
Just like that, he kissed her again, without warning, devouring, cajoling, enticing. By the time he raised his mouth from hers, she was breathless all over again.
âYouâre a hard man to resist,â she said softly.
âThereâs no need to resist.â His voice was a husky murmur close to her ear.
âItâs too soon, Parker.â
âThe timing is perfect.â
A shiver of wanting strummed through her.
âYou want this,â he whispered.
She practically swooned at the feel of his lips along the sensitive skin below her ear. âThatâs beside the point.â
âHoney, that is the point.â
âMaybe,â she whispered. âButâ¦â
He paused, the sound of his deeply drawn breath loud in her ear. âIâm listening.â
âIâm waiting.â
There was that word again, Parker thought. âDefine waiting.â
She wet her lips, straightened her clothes, took a deep breath. And finally met his gaze. âIâm waiting. For the right man. For a commitment. For forever.â
âYou canât mean youâre waiting for your wedding night.â
She pulled a little face. âNobody can say that with absolute certainty. I mean, people with the best of intentions have been known to get carried away. After all, sex is a heady, pleasurable sensation.â
âI know how pleasurable sex is.â He decided to try a different tack. âLook, I make a very good living from clients who prove over and over that marriage and forever are two completely different concepts.â
âMaybe for some. I know what youâre thinking, Parker. But there are still a few of us around.â
The implication hit him between the eyes like a sledgehammer. He didnât know whether she was a virginâhe grimaced at the notionâor one of those born-again virgins heâd read about. Either way, it was insane.
He must have said it out loud, because she bristled. âYouâre welcome to your opinion. Iâll stick to mine. Attraction is nice, but so often it fizzles. Love lasts.â
âLove is overrated.â
Hannah could have argued. But she refrained. Instead she took a frank look at Parker. After quiet deliberation she decided that only someone who had never been in love could say such a thing with so much quiet conviction.
She crossed her arms and redistributed her weight to one foot, and finally said, âAnd sex isnât overrated?â
She thought his