Back to the Shady Lady, some wiser voice in the distant recesses of her mind instructed.
She tuned out that wiser voice. “Oh, Justin…” The two words escaped her lips, full of hope and longing, and having nothing at all to do with either the notorious Lily Divine, or with getting the dusting done.
He whispered her name.
Her heart seemed to expand in the prison of her chest.
And at that moment, not to kiss him…
Well, that was impossible. It just wouldn’t do.
She set down her rag and her spray bottle on the glass case beside her. He did the same.
“Justin,” she whispered, thinking she should really try a little harder to resist the overwhelming urge to feel his lips on hers.
“Katie…”
A long moment elapsed. She looked at him and he looked back at her and—
“Oh, Justin, I think we’re in trouble here.”
He only nodded. His eyes said he knew exactly what kind of trouble she meant.
“We shouldn’t,” she whispered. “We told ourselves we wouldn’t.”
“That’s right,” he agreed, his voice rough and low. “No more kissing.”
“It’s not a good idea.”
“Things could…get out of control.”
“Easily.”
“It’s crazy.”
“Wild…”
“Dangerous…”
“Oh, I know,” she said.
And then he reached for her.
With a glad cry, she reached back. His arms went around her and all doubt fled.
Eager and oh-so-willing, she lifted her mouth to receive his kiss.
Chapter Seven
“We…have to…be careful…” He whispered the words between quick, hungry kisses.
She nodded. “Oh. Yes. Careful. You’re so right.”
His mouth closed on hers again, drugging. Magical. She slid her hands up his broad chest to wrap them around his neck, and he caught her wrists. He guided them down, so her arms were straight at her sides.
His fingers slipped over the backs of her hands and he wove them between hers, lightly rubbing—in and out and in again, never quite clasping, flesh brushing flesh, little tingles of excitement zipping through her with every featherlight caress. All the while, as his fingers teased hers, he kissed her, his tongue sweeping her mouth, his lips hot and soft and oh-so-tender.
She moaned as he finally twined his fingers with hers, tightening, curling his hands to fists, so her hands were cradled in his palms, her fingers captured between his. A thoroughly willing captive, she smiled against his lips as he guided her hands around behind her.
Their joined fists resting at the small of her back, he kissed her some more. She sighed at the wonder of it, and gave her mouth up to his.
After forever of the two of them kissing and kissing as if they would never stop, he began walking her backward.
She stumbled at first, surprised. A giddy laugh escaped her; he chuckled in response.
Quickly, she regained her balance, and, as he guided her, she backed up toward the open door to the central room. It was like a dance, a beautiful, slow, erotic dance.
He waltzed her through the open doorway, his mouth locked to hers. On they went, slow, delicious step by slow step, to the turn in the roped-off walkway, and then down toward the wide, high bed that had once graced a guest room at the Lazy D.
There, with only a stretch of rope keeping them from the waiting bed, he paused. She swayed in his hold, her mouth fused to his.
A small cry of loss escaped her when he lifted his head. He eased his strong fingers free of hers and stepped back.
“We should stop now.”
For a suspended moment, she gazed up into his gleaming eyes. And then, with a sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder. “You know, you keep saying that.”
His arms closed around her, tight and warm. She felt the sweet brush of his lips in her hair as she breathed in the scent of him: of the motel-issue shampoo they’d both used, of his clean skin and a faint hint of the inexpensive aftershave he’d found in the brown bag. “I know I keep saying it,” he muttered against her hair. “I just don’t seem to be listening to myself when I say it.”
She lifted her head and captured his blue, blue gaze again. Boldly, she suggested, “We could just go ahead and slip under the rope. We could kick off our shoes, stretch out on the bed…”
His arms dropped away. “And then what?”
She swallowed. “Well, and then, we could…take it from there.”
“Take it from there,” he repeated, gruffly. “I’d like that. Way too much. But we can’t lose our heads here. We’ve got to be sensible.”
Now she was the one repeating after him. “Sensible.”
“That’s what I said.”
“I have to admit, I don’t feel all that sensible recently. Not since I met you.”
That brought a smile to his beautiful mouth. “All my fault, then.”
She tipped her chin higher. “No. This thing between us, it’s fifty-fifty. You’re not leading me anywhere I don’t want to go.”
He studied her face for a long moment—long enough that she felt a blush begin to burn her cheeks. And then he said flatly, “I’ve got no condoms. I don’t suppose you do?”
“Uh. No. Sorry.” She looked down, not embarrassed, exactly, but definitely feeling in over her head.
He put a finger under her chin and made her look at him again. “It’s something that has to be considered.”
“Oh, I know. You’re right. I just…well, we could be careful, couldn’t we?”
He swore under his breath. “I keep telling myself the same thing. But I don’t feel all that damn careful, and that’s the hard truth. Once I get my arms around you, caution flies right out the door.”
“I could…be cautious for us.” Even as she suggested it, she knew that wouldn’t work. When he kissed her, words like careful and caution vanished from her vocabulary.
He gave her a rueful smile. “No doubt about it. Time to go out and check on that mean mare.”
The snow stopped around seven. They were sitting at the table eating applesauce and more of the never-ending sandwiches, when Katie looked across at the light in the Lockwood’s window and realized there was no curtain of white obscuring it.
Justin noticed, too. “Tomorrow we can probably start digging out.”
“Hey, the phone may even be working soon.” She’d checked it just a half an hour before. “And if the snow doesn’t start in heavy again, the plow should get to us by tomorrow sometime.”
“And we’ll be free.”
They stared at each other across the expanse of the tabletop. “Free…” She repeated the word softly. And somehow, she couldn’t keep from sounding forlorn.
She looked out the window again, at that golden light from the house across the museum yard.