Where The Heart Is. Kate Hardy

      ‘Yes,’ he said, and lifted his upper body so he could take one nipple into his mouth. She tipped her head back and groaned.

      She’d trudged through mud. All day. Every muscle ached. She needed some sleep. But she needed this much, much more. While he was still touching her, sucking her, she pulled her T-shirt and bra off.

      ‘I want to do this in the light,’ he murmured against her skin.

      She froze. And give a shadow-show to the whole camp? Not likely!

      ‘Santiago,’ he said. ‘Our last night. You, me, a good hotel. A bed with proper sheets. A hot, hot shower. And I’m going to soap every centimetre of you. Touch you. Kiss you all over.’

      Longing shuddered through her. ‘Yes.’

      He unsnapped the button of her jeans, lowered the zip. ‘We’re going to make love with the light on.’

      Her mouth went dry. ‘Yes.’

      He slid his hand into her jeans, and his fingers nudged her knickers aside. She exhaled sharply as one finger found the exact spot she wanted to be touched, and began to rub. She leaned back, gripping his thighs for support. ‘Yes.’

      ‘And I’m going to watch your face, see your eyes when you come,’ he murmured.

      Sensation burst through her and she had to clench her teeth together, biting back a moan of pleasure.

      This was crazy. They were in a tent, for goodness’ sake. It was cold, cramped and pitch black. It was raining again, too—she could hear the raindrops thudding against the canvas.

      And she wouldn’t have swapped this moment for the world.

      Little aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her as he gently lifted her off him. He rubbed his face against hers, kissed the tip of her nose. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that all day.’

      ‘Me, too.’ She couldn’t help confessing it.

      ‘The night is young.’ He kissed her hard. ‘Let me sort this sleeping bag. And we’ll take it slower this time.’

      This time it would be her turn to explore. By touch, by taste, breathing in his clean male scent. She smiled as she heard the whoosh of the zip. In Santiago, the last sense would click into place.