She wanted him to touch her.

It terrified her and it thrilled her, and she wasn’t at all sure letting herself go would be the right thing. But Kate had done the right thing all her life. She’d never slept around or done drugs. She had always been a good girl, doing whatever she was told, working hard and pushing herself. Where did it get her? Women who took control of their decisions seemed more content when they got to be her age.

This had been a most unusual evening. She was with a man she’d met only a few hours ago, yet she felt completely at ease. It was like being with someone she’d known for years. It was the comfortable, connected feeling she always wished she’d had with her husband.

There was a subtle shift in his position, and Kate found herself gazing into David’s eyes. Eyes as deep and beautiful as the darkening sky.

David gently cradled her face in his hands and his gaze settled on her lips. He waited, possibly expecting her to pull back, but when she didn’t, David closed the space between them.

She held her breath, waiting what seemed like forever for the first touch. When his lips brushed hers, soft and inviting, her eyes drifted closed and she was lost. She didn’t feel anything but heat as his fingers combed through her hair and his mouth played with hers. She felt the ridges of muscle as her hands drifted along his sides and to his back. Kate had never touched a man like him in all her life—one who was hard as steel, a man with enough physical power to crush her, and yet so gentle, so aware of his own strength that he tempered it for her. His arms came around her and enveloped her in a tender embrace as he continued to kiss her, urging her lips apart, dipping his tongue into her mouth until he finally pulled away. Both of them were breathing hard and Kate collapsed onto his chest, drawing in the scent of the ocean and his cologne.

He nuzzled her hair and Kate heard his breathing steady while he maneuvered her onto his lap and started kissing her again—gentle, probing kisses. Kisses that were meant to make her drunk, lose her mind, and surrender.

“David?” He moved to her jaw and neck nipping as he explored.

“Kate.” He whispered in her ear. “We should stop.”

“I don’t want to stop.” She ran her hands up and down his spine. With each stroke, he shuddered. It was crazy wanting him like this, unbelievable that the feeling was mutual.

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. We should go back to the hotel.” Her lips touched his Adam’s apple and he swallowed hard. She smiled, loving the flash of power she felt.

“Your room,” he said. “I have a roommate.”

“Uh huh.” Her fingers ran through his hair and she took tiny sips of his lips. “I don’t care where we go.”

He drew in an unsteady breath, moved her off his lap, and pulled her behind him on a mad dash to the car. They didn’t touch during the entire ride from Santa Monica to the hotel. Kate sat pressed against the passenger door, afraid to get too close. If they had any physical contact, they wouldn’t make it to her suite. They glanced at each other occasionally, and she knew if David was feeling half of what she was, he was in pain.

They made it as far as the door of her room when he spun her around and pressed her against the wall, kissing her until she could barely stand. His lips were soft, his tongue probing, and he took possession of her mouth in a way no one else ever had. When he steadied himself and stepped back from her, there was still heat—unbelievable heat—between them. Kate didn’t know how she found the plastic room key in her bag, and she couldn’t hold it still enough to insert it and open the door.

“My hands are shaking.”

“Give it to me.” He took the key, slid it in, and as soon as the light turned green, he opened the door. They didn’t get two steps into the room before they were on each other.

His mouth was magic, and when he kissed her again Kate couldn’t do anything but hold on. She loved how he felt, loved that this powerful man would be inside her. And then her brain took over.

Suddenly, the thought of being with him terrified her. Not because she felt she would be condemned for all eternity for sleeping with him, but because she felt so inexperienced. Richard had been her only lover, and he wasn’t patient, gentle, or particularly innovative. For five years before her divorce, Kate’s sex life had been reduced to the missionary position once a week.

Before that it was the missionary position twice a week.

How could she be with him? It wasn’t that she didn’t try with her husband. She coaxed and teased, never refusing him. She did research, for God’s sake, to try and spice things up, but that had been a complete disaster. Now, here she was with David, who was probably used to women who knew their way around a man’s body.

Kate needed a map.

To her horror, instead of pulling away from him and putting an end to the encounter, she burrowed into his broad chest and he pulled her close.

“What is it?”

“David, I can’t.”

“You don’t want to make love?”

She looked in his eyes and felt a little dizzy. “I do. But I’m afraid I won’t know what I’m doing.”

He grinned softly. “What?”

“My experience is fairly limited. My husband used all his best moves with his mistress.”

The back of his hand grazed over her cheek and he smiled. “I guess I’ll have to use all my best moves then.”

His words touched her on so many levels. He was trying to ease her mind, make her feel desired, make her smile. And as nervous as she was, if she turned him away she would have another regret to add to the list that was already too long. She couldn’t do that. She wanted him; and more, she needed him. She needed the freedom he represented.

Staring at the buttons on his shirt, Kate ran her palms over the hard muscle hiding beneath. Then, she did something she would never forget. She started to undo the buttons. The progress was painfully slow. David watched her; she could feel his eyes. When the shirt was open Kate ran her hands under the soft fabric and pushed it off his shoulders. A gasp escaped her lips.

He was a sculpture, a classical painting, a vision all rolled into one. Every muscle of his torso was defined, like it had been cut from a slab of marble. “Oh… God…”

She didn’t recognize her own voice as it came out on a breath. He was David—as imposing and as perfectly formed as the statue by Michelangelo. She pressed her lips to his chest and he groaned. Still holding the remnants of a summer tan, his skin was slightly gold, and dusted with dark hair. She looked up when he held her away from his body.

“My turn,” he said, and he tugged at the bottom of her sweater.

Kate’s mind strayed to thoughts of the stretch marks he might see, of the ripples and sags that came from mileage. “I’m not like you,” she whispered.

He grinned. “I hope not.” Her sweater fell to the floor and David’s hands traveled over her shoulders and down her back. She trembled at the gentle movement of his fingers. He had the most amazing hands. Her bra was gone before she knew what was happening.

“You’re beautiful.” He unbuttoned her trousers and eased them over her hips and thighs.

Kate stepped out of her shoes and then out of the pants, letting them puddle at her feet. He stroked her everywhere, and while she should have felt exposed, standing nearly naked in front of a man she’d known less than six hours, she didn’t. Kate felt no embarrassment with David, no shame, just desire. It balled in her belly, waiting to explode.

When their bodies finally made contact, Kate’s skin burned and her bones melted. David kissed her neck and shoulder, and without any warning he lifted her into his arms. This is a dream. It can’t be real. She wrote things like this, scenes where passion fueled every action. But David wasn’t a character in a book, he was real, and she looped her arms around his neck and kissed his face as he carried her toward the bedroom.