Free The Way Home by Cindy Gerard Page A

distance between them?
    Honest truth? She didn’t know, and in this moment, she didn’t care. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted it so badly she ached. And if he didn’t “claim his prize” soon, she wasn’t altogether certain that she wouldn’t do some claiming of her own.

    T Y FELT A slight give of muscle and resistance as some of the tension eased from her small body. He could feel her heat now. Feel both the anticipation and the indecision, and chose to believe the anticipation won out.
    A bigger man might have given her more time to adjust to the idea. A bigger man would not have played the “You lost, I won, and to the victor go the spoils” card. He wasn’t the bigger man. Not tonight. Tonight he was a man who held a beautiful and desirable woman in his arms. A woman who was skittish and uncertain but interested, and he’d be damned if he’d let her hesitation sway him.
    When she turned her face up to his, he didn’t hesitate. He lowered his head and drew her closer. Pressed his lips to hers.
    And felt something close to magic.
    Tentative. She was oh so tentative. He needed to remember that, and he needed to remember why. He needed to cater to her uncertainty as she got used to the fit of their lips, the melding of their bodies, the touch and heat and scent of his skin. It cost him. Holy God, it cost him, as he let her become accustomed to his mouth, to the warmth and the wetness, to the give and the take, reining himself in before things got out of control and he took this to a level that would probably scare them both.
    His patience paid off. Her body seemed simply to liquefy as she finally relaxed into him, lifted her arms around his neck, and invited him to know her better. To know her mouth. To know the press of her breasts against his chest. The fit of their hips. And please, God , he needed to keep it together enough to let her set the pace when he wanted to indulge in the taste and the sweetness of her and the slow and steady melting of her guard as she gave up and gave in.
    She kissed him back now. Now she asked for more. Her mouth open, tongue seeking. Her breath was warm and tasted of wine. Her heartbeat pounded, rapid and wild against his chest. Her skin warmed beneath his hands when he found her bare back beneath her tank top. And she smelled— Lord —shesmelled of sun and pine and wood smoke and home, and he wanted to do things to her that would make her scream his name and beg him for more. He wanted to feel the depth of her passion and her fire and promise her that when they made love, it would be amazing.
    Only this was supposed to be a kiss. Just a kiss. A friendly introduction to the prospect of many things in store. And it was up to him to dial things down before she panicked and bolted like a wild animal whose self-preservation instincts had kicked into high gear.
    So he made himself take them both down slowly. He pulled back by degrees, easing them back to a place where it was safe and sane and his head wasn’t spinning and she didn’t have to worry about losing control. Hell, where he didn’t have to worry that he’d pick her up caveman-style, carry her back into the cabin, and toss her onto the bed.
    Finally, reluctantly, he ended the kiss and tucked her head beneath his chin. Then he held her while his heart slammed and she clung as if she needed him to hold her upright.
    If he had any sense, he wouldn’t feel so pleased with himself. He’d be more than a little alarmed by the way she’d turned him inside out with one single, simple kiss.
    “Wow,” he whispered, pressing his lips against her hair.
    She sucked in a serrated breath and started to pull away.
    “No. Not yet. You leave me like this, I may keel over.”
    But he understood that reality had hit her. She’d let him kiss her. More, she’d kissed him back. Kissed the first man who was not her husband.
    “It was only a kiss, Jess,” he reminded her gently. “An amazing kiss. But that’s all it