Carol gently caught his lower lip between her teeth and sucked on it, playing with it while darting the tip of her tongue in and out of his mouth.
The effect on Steve was electric. His mouth claimed hers in an urgent kiss that drove the oxygen from her lungs. Then, with a strength that astonished her, he lifted her even higher until his mouth closed over her left breast, rolling his tongue over her nipple, then sucking at it greedily, taking in more and more of her breast.
Carol thought she was going to go crazy with the tidal wave of sensation that flooded her being. She locked her legs around his waist and braced her hands against his shoulders. His mouth and tongue alternated from one breast to the other until she was convinced that if he didn’t take her soon, she was going to faint in his arms.
Braced against the closet door, Steve used what leverage he could to inch his hand up the inside of her thigh. His exploring fingers reached higher and higher, then paused when he encountered a nylon barrier. He groaned his frustration.
Carol was so weak with longing that if he didn’t carry her voluntarily into the bedroom soon, she was going to demand that he make love to her right there on the entryway floor.
“You weren’t wearing a bra,” he chastised her in a husky thwarted voice. “I was hoping …”
He didn’t need to finish for Carol to know what he was talking about. When they were married, she’d often worn a garter belt with her nylons instead of panty hose so their lovemaking wouldn’t be impeded.
“I want you,” she whispered, her hands framing his face. “But if you think it would be best to leave … go now. The choice is yours.”
His gaze locked with hers, Steve marched wordlessly across the living room and down the long hallway to the bedroom that had once been theirs.
“Not here,” she told him. “I sleep there now,” she explained, pointing to the room across the hall.
Steve switched directions and marched into the smaller bedroom, not stopping until he reached the queen-size bed. For one crazy second, Carol thought he meant to drop her on top of the mattress and storm right out of the house. Instead he continued to hold her, the look in his eyes wild and uncertain.
Carol’s eyes met his. She was nearly choking on the sadness that threatened to overwhelm her. Tentatively she raised one hand and pressed it to the side of his face, her eyes wide, her heart pounding so hard she was sure the sound of it would soon bring down the walls.
To her surprise, Steve tenderly placed her on the bed, braced one knee against the edge of the mattress and leaned over her.
“We aren’t married…. Not a damn thing has been settled between us,” he announced, as though this should be shocking news.
Carol said nothing, but she casually slipped her hand around the side of his neck, urging his mouth down to hers. She met with no resistance.
“Make love to me,” she murmured.
Steve groaned, twisted around and dropped to sit on the side of the bed, granting her a full view of his solid back. The thread of disappointment that wrapped itself around Carol’s heart was followed by a slow, lazy smile that spread over her mouth as she recognized his frantic movements.
Steve was undressing.
* * *
Feeling deliciously warm and content, Carol woke two hours later to the sound of Steve rummaging in the kitchen. No doubt he was looking for something to eat. Smiling, she jerked her arms high above her head and stretched. She yawned and arched her back, slightly elevating her hips with the action. She felt marvelous. Stupendous. Happy.
Her heart bursting with newfound joy, she reached for Steve’s shirt and purposely buttoned it just enough to be provocative while looking as if she’d made some effort to cover herself.
Semiclothed, she moved toward the noise emanating from her kitchen. Barefoot, dressed only in his slacks, Steve was bent over, investigating the contents of her refrigerator.
Carol paused in the doorway. “Making love always did make you hungry,” she said from behind him.
“There’s hardly a damn thing in here except sweet potatoes. Good grief, woman, what are you doing with all these leftover yams?”
Carol felt sudden heat rise in her cheeks as hurried excuses crowded her mind. “They were on sale this week because of Christmas.”
“They must have been at rock-bottom price. I counted six containers full of them. It looks like you’ve been eating them at every meal for an entire week.”
“There’s some pie if that’ll interest you,” she said, a little too quickly. “And plenty of turkey for a sandwich, if you want.”
He straightened, closed the refrigerator and turned to face her. But whatever he’d intended to say apparently left him when he caught sight of her seductive pose. She was leaning against the doorjamb, hands behind her back and one foot braced against the wall, smiling at him, certain he could read her thoughts.
“There’s pumpkin, and the whipped topping is fresh.”
“Pumpkin?” he repeated.
“The pie.”
He blinked, and nodded. “That sounds good.”
“Would you like me to make you a sandwich while I’m at it?”
“Sure.” But he didn’t sound sure of anything at the moment.
Moving with ease around her kitchen, Carol brought out the necessary ingredients and quickly put together a snack for both of them. When she’d finished, she carried their plates to the small table across from the stove.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked, setting their plates down.
“I’ll get it,” Steve said, apparently eager to help. “What would you like?”
“Milk,” she responded automatically. She’d never been overly fond of the beverage but had recently made a habit of drinking a glass or two each day in preparation for her pregnancy.
“I thought you didn’t like milk.”
“I … I’ve acquired new tastes in the past year.”
Steve grinned. “There are certain things about you that haven’t changed, and then there’s something more, something completely unexpected. Good God, woman, you’ve turned into a little she-devil, haven’t you?”
Carol lowered her gaze and felt the heated blush work its way up her neck and spill into her cheeks. It wasn’t any wonder Steve was teasing her. She’d been as hot as a stick of dynamite. By the time he’d undressed, she’d behaved like a tigress, clawing at him, driven by mindless passion.
Chuckling, Steve delivered two glasses of milk to the table. “You surprised me,” he said. “You used to be a tad more timid.”
Doing her best to ignore him, Carol brought her feet up to the edge of the chair and pulled the shirt down over her legs. With feigned dignity, she reached for half of her sandwich. “An officer and a gentleman wouldn’t remind me of my wicked ways.”
Still grinning, Steve lounged against the back of the chair. “You used to be far more subtle.”
“Steve,” she cried, “stop talking about it. Can’t you see you’re embarrassing me?”
“I remember one time when we were on our way to an admiral’s dinner party and you casually announced you’d been in such a rush that you’d forgotten to put on any underwear.” Carol closed her eyes and looked away, remembering the time as clearly as if it had been last week instead of several years ago. She remembered, too, how good the lovemaking had been later that same evening.
“There wasn’t time for us to go back to the house,