She whipped around so fast he nearly plowed over her. They bumped. Hard. Harris had to catch her arms to keep them both on their feet.
Giving her a small shake, he groused, “What the hell is the matter with you?”
“Me!” She pushed him away, almost landing him on his butt. “I didn’t say anything about being horny—how crass is that?”
“You think antsy sounds prettier? It means the same thing.”
Clair gasped. “It does not.”
Disgusted, Harris stared into her sexy green eyes and taunted, “Then I was right. You don’t know anything about lust.”
Her pupils flared. The seconds passed with the impact of a ticking bomb. He could feel the tension building, stretching almost to the breaking point—and she attacked.
One second Harris was standing there, smirking at her, and then he was flat on his back in the cold dank grass, little rocks prodding his spine, mosquitoes buzzing with delight at the feast thrown to them.
And Clair, well, Clair had an unshakable grip on his skull and her mouth was plastered to his, hot and wet and demanding. Somehow, with the prodding of her tongue, he opened and she plundered, licking and tasting, stealing his objections and melting them with her heat.
Astounded, instantly aroused, Harris cupped her head, felt the silkiness of her hair, the warmth of her skin. He tipped his head for a better angle and let her deepen the kiss more. Clair, he thought. This was Clair straddling him, Clair kissing him with so much passion. Her breasts flattened on his chest, her thighs shifted against his, wrenching a deep groan from him.
Then she was gone.
Moon and stars filled Harris’s vision. His lungs labored to draw in more cool night air. His body burned. Confused, he pushed up to his elbows. Clair stood over him, hands on her hips, her glasses askew, her white shorts now dirty.
“That,” she said, “is lust.”
Harris nodded in complete and total agreement. “I’ll say.”
She offered him a hand, and when he took it, she helped haul him to his feet. Looking down into her earnest face, Harris scrambled for something to say, some way to get back into that full-body contact. But before a single idea could form, Clair touched his chin, his jaw, gently, softly.
Harris went mute with anticipation.
She stepped up against him, cuddling into him, wrapping her arms around him. After a long, meaningful stare into his eyes that scorched him clean through to his bones, she went on tiptoe and kissed him again. This kiss was as different as night and day from the first. It was purposeful, sweet, and it consumed him.
Like a slow burn, she involved his entire body, her small hands touching up and down his bare back, over his shoulders, as if in awe of his muscles and strength. Her feet moved between his, which aligned her soft belly with his groin. She pressed, proving she was aware of his erection.
Her breasts brushed against him, teasing, taunting, until he felt her stiffened nipples and growled.
She made small sounds of pleasure and hunger too, her tongue now shy, loving.
Loving?
With a pat to his rear, Clair pulled away. He watched as she slowly licked her lips. “And that,” she whispered, “is antsy.”
Breathless, hot, more than a little ready, Harris reached for her. “I don’t think I quite understand yet. You better do a little more explaining.”
CHAPTER THREE
CLAIR’S QUICK BACK STEP kept her out of reach. “If that explanation didn’t suffice, then nothing will. You’re hopeless.” She turned away.
Did women always have to be so confusing?
Neither of them jogged this time. Hell, just walking was tough for Harris. He had a major Jones and she just didn’t seem all that affected. Except for the wobbly way she walked. And the way she breathed too deeply.
He couldn’t just let it go, so after half a dozen steps, he cleared his throat and ventured into murky water. “So...that was just a lesson, huh?”
“Think what you will.”
She sounded all prickly again. Clair never got prickly with him. He wasn’t used to it and didn’t have a clue how to deal with her in this mood. “How about you just explain it?”
One shoulder lifted in a halfhearted shrug. “Men get horny and want to get laid. Women get antsy and want to touch and be touched, to cuddle and be affectionate.” She cast him a quick look. “And then make love.”
He raised his hand. “I’ll take either one.”
“I wasn’t offering.”
“Yeah, you were.” When she turned to face him, Harris chastised her with a look. “I’m a little slow on the uptake sometimes, but I’m not a complete dolt. You’re coming on to me.”
She didn’t reply to that one way or the other.
He needed verification, damn it. “I’m willing, Clair.”
The incredulous look she gave him didn’t bode well. “Willing? Oh great, bring out the band. Harris is willing.” Her laugh reeked with sarcasm. “How did I get so lucky?”
Figuring her out wasn’t going to be easy. “Bad word choice? Should I have said happy to oblige? Anxious? Maybe desperate?”
Her eyes narrowed behind the lenses of her glasses. “Are you?”
“After those killer kisses, what do you think?”
She reached around him to pat his ass again—right over the pocket that held the photo and his key. The woman sure had a thing for his rear.
“I think you’re desperate to find your stupid mystery woman and I’d just be a way to pass the time.” She crossed her arms over her chest, going all stiff and angry.
Uh-oh.
He took too long trying to figure out what to say, because she demanded, “Isn’t that right?”
Harris held out his hands. “C’mon, Clair. I can’t just forget about her. But hell, I don’t even know her.”
“You told me you didn’t know me that well either.”
They were a good mile from home, which ensured no matter what he said she couldn’t just stalk off in a temper. That gave Harris small comfort, though, when he didn’t know what the hell to say. “Up until a few minutes ago, I didn’t know you were interested in...that.”
“That?” she asked meanly, curling her lip, being deliberately derisive.
“Sex. Me.”
“The two combined?”
“Exactly.” He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, slowing her furious stomp to a more sedate pace. When she didn’t object, he decided to just hang on to her. Touching her was nice. At least now it was. Before she’d kissed him, he hadn’t really noticed how it felt to touch her. Realizing that, he said, “I need a few minutes to adjust, that’s all. Neither of us has thought that much about sleeping together.”
“Speak for yourself.”
Was that a confession? His interest sharpened to an ache. “You’ve thought about me?”
“You’re not an ogre, Harris. Most of the time, you’re not too moronic. I’m not with anyone else. Do the math.”
Harris chewed over those critical and questionable compliments, and didn’t like the conclusion he came to. “So like your ex-boyfriend, I’d be filler until something better