He moved his mouth to her breasts, nibbling and suckling, making sure there was nothing he missed. Her nipples pebbled all the more, her eyes widened in excitement, and the satin of her skin grew as hot as the fire burning inside him.
Damn. But he loved her like this. All soft and womanly. Rocking against him, so reckless and open to everything...
He rose and took her mouth again, determined not to let it go by too fast, yet able to tell from the quickening meter of her breath she needed more, too, just as he did. Wedging his knee between her legs, he spread them wide and brought his leg up, so she could ride his thigh. She moaned and melted into his body, rubbing, seeking, finding, her tongue tangling with his, until he was as lost in their embrace as she was. Her breath caught even more as he stroked her, finding her center, the wet, velvety heat.
“Trace?” She kissed him again.
He kissed her back, still stroking and touching, making her his. Quivering, her hands found the waistband of his boxers, slid inside to cup him. She whispered, “I don’t think I can wait...”
Another thing he loved about her.
She was okay with living in the moment. And then finding another. And another...
Grinning, he peeled off his boxers. She climbed his body and still resting against the wall, wrapped her legs around his waist. One clever move on her part, and he was inside. Overcome with the feel of her slick, wet heat, he pushed even deeper. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, darlin’.”
He moaned as she clamped even tighter around him, bringing him home...
“Exactly what I thought when you first undressed me. And yet...” She pressed her mouth to his, kissing him softly, erotically, finding the same easy timeless rhythm of penetration and withdrawal. She sighed wantonly. “Here we are...”
“Together again,” he rasped, letting her call all the shots the first time they made love during a reunion, the way he always did. Being each other’s soft place to fall...
* * *
TWO ADDITIONAL BOUTS of hot lovemaking and a short nap later, Poppy and Trace finally showered and headed to her kitchen for a long-delayed first meal of the day
“So what’s on the agenda for today?” Trace asked.
Glad things were finally returning to normal between them—meaning not too serious or intense—Poppy took out the coffee. “Well, I was going to make a new wreath for the front door. Then, I have to run over to the office-supply and craft stores to buy supplies for the Holiday Cards for Soldiers project at the elementary school later this week.”
He lounged against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest “That’s right. You help out with that every year, don’t you?”
Wondering if she would ever get tired of admiring his taut, hard body—never mind the things it could do for her!—she shrugged. “The whole school does. It’s a way to show our military how much we appreciate all they do for us.”
“Want help with it?”
“Actually, I bet they’d like you to speak to a class or two, too. Tell them about your job.”
His mouth quirked. “I think I could do that.”
“Great!” Poppy grinned as their eyes met. “I’ll let the teachers know. Then...” Sobering, she took a deep breath, not sure how he would feel about it, never mind the timing, since he hadn’t even been back a full day. “I had planned to go to Fort Worth to visit with Anne Marie this evening. I wanted to let her know that we were married and to thank her for having so much faith in us.”
He moved so she could get into the cupboard behind him. “Want company?”
Did she ever.
Poppy’s thigh brushed his as she reached for the filters. “I’m sure she’d be thrilled to see you.” She stumbled slightly and Trace put a hand beneath her elbow to steady her.
“The only thing is...I was planning to spend the night in a hotel there, rather than drive the two and a half hours back tonight.” She felt oddly clumsy. Almost a little dizzy.
Must be the accumulated fatigue.
He slid her a look. “Do you have a hotel reservation?”
Poppy put the paper filter in the basket. “Yes.”
He watched her grind the beans. “Am I going to need my own room or can I bunk with you?” he asked as the aroma of fresh-ground coffee filled her kitchen.
In the past they had done it both ways, although they usually ended up spending most of their time together, anyway. Aware of his eyes upon her, Poppy added water and hit Brew. “I suppose we could share,” she said dryly, “in the interest of economy and all.”
And the fact that given a choice, I’d like nothing more than to spend another night making wild, passionate love with you and then sleep snuggled up together.
He nodded. “What time did you want to leave?”
Poppy got out the orange juice. “I said I would be there around seven, so...maybe three-thirty.”
“Sounds good.”
A feeling of peace descended between them. And something else a lot deeper and harder to identify.
“So...back to the wreath,” he continued affably as she busied herself pouring them each a glass of juice. “Do you want any help making that?”
* * *
SAY WHAT? “I THOUGHT the only thing you ever did for your mom’s florist business was deliver orders!” As the mood between them began to lighten, she pushed on. “That she wouldn’t let you near the creative side because you were all thumbs.”
“True enough.” He grinned at her playful needling then winked. “Maybe on purpose...”
“Ah. The old male trick of trying to get out of something through demonstrated incompetence?”
He rubbed the flat of his hand across his stubbled jaw. “Not that you would ever do the same thing.”
Poppy called on her inner Texas belle. Flattening a hand across her throat, she drawled, “Why, whatever are you talking about?”
His brow raised at her thick Southern accent. Still laughing, he said, “I seem to remember a flat tire or two...”
“Okay.” She flushed as his eyes surveyed her lazily, head to toe. “So I might have feigned feminine incompetence when we were in college, to avoid getting my clothes smudged with tire yuck.” A perfectly understandable ploy, in her view.
He put his glass aside and moved toward her. “And I might have enjoyed coming to your rescue.”
“That’s right.” Poppy gazed down at their suddenly linked hands. “The first time we ever made love was after you rescued me and came back to my apartment to shower and get cleaned up.”
He kissed her knuckles. “And we ended up in bed instead.”
Tenderness flowed between them. “Amazing, how long ago that was.” Poppy sighed contentedly.
“How long we’ve been together.”
And she knew it was all because they had never been foolish enough to put restraints on each other, and what they each wanted out of life. Or to do anything really crazy like, say, get married.
Only now they had.
Would that change anything?
And what would happen to their