Perfect Timing: Those Were the Days / Pistols at Dawn / Time After Time. Nancy Warren

“Shut up,” she said, then kissed him hard. She fumbled for his belt and loosened his pants. “The bed,” she demanded, determined to take control. To take back this moment, and not let anything about Tucker be tainted with the revulsion she felt for her stepfather.

      He hesitated, but when he looked into her eyes, something seemed to shift. He pressed a kiss to her lips, then scooped her up, carrying her bridelike to the bed and laying her there.

      She refused to stay down, though. She climbed to her knees and then, with a soft hand on his chest, she laid him back, then straddled him. Leaning forward, she captured him with a kiss, her hands stroking his chest as she went to work on the buttons of his shirt.

      Her pulse pounded in her ears, a testament to her nerves. But she wanted this. Wanted to take this man on her terms and prove that she could do it. And so she pushed onward, stroking his shoulders as she eased off his shirt, delighting in the way his muscles tightened as she ran a finger down the smattering of hair leading to his navel.

      She eased his fly open, then tugged his pants down, noticing with delight how he lifted his hips to help. He was rock hard, and that fact both thrilled her and urged her on.

      “Sylvia,” he whispered.

      “Shh.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “No talking,” she said, then replaced her finger with her lips.

      With one hand, she took his and pressed it between her thighs, easing him back and forth until he took up the motion, his fingers sliding in and out and making her even hotter and wetter than she’d been before.

      He drove her to the edge like that, and she moaned against his mouth, her hands tight against his chest until she couldn’t stand it any longer. With a sharp sigh, she slid onto him, impaling herself on the length of him. She arched back and moaned. His throaty groan matching hers, and his hands reached for her, cupping and stroking her breasts even as his hips rose and fell in a rhythmic motion that matched hers.

      They fell into a pattern full of wild and desperate need, more and more until, at last, the world exploded around her and she sagged against him, totally spent.

      He was, she realized, still hard. He started to ease her over, but she shook her head, spooning up tight against him. “Later,” she whispered, even as fatigue took over.

      She thought he might argue, might fight her for this moment of control. But he didn’t. Instead, he pressed tight against her, his hands softly stroking her back. She felt safe in his arms. Safe and right and free of her demons.

      And with that thought, she drifted to sleep, secure in Tucker’s arms.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      “MORE TEA, MR. GREENE?” Anna asked, holding the teapot as if she were determined to pour whether Tucker wanted more or not. He didn’t, actually, but neither did he want to leave the patio yet. After an incredible evening with Sylvia, then falling asleep in each other’s arms, he’d awakened quite alone.

      Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure what to think. The woman had taken over their lovemaking, a scenario that had thrilled him more than he’d anticipated. He hadn’t quite gotten all that he’d wanted out of the encounter, though, and he’d ended up taking a cold shower after she’d drifted off.

      Despite the cold shower, he’d awakened this morning hoping that his own satisfaction was on the agenda, only to be disappointed by the discovery that she’d disappeared during the night.

      He’d come down to breakfast, hoping to see her here, and instead found only his sister.

      Though once again frustrated, he supposed it was for the best that she’d sneaked back to her room, especially since Blythe had announced to Tucker that she’d popped her head into Sylvia’s room and told her where to find them for breakfast. As soon as his sister had told him that, Tucker had slowed down his attack on his poached eggs and toast, hoping she would appear before he finished his breakfast.

      So far, he was eating by himself.

      He shot a glance at his sister and amended the thought. Not by himself, but also not with the woman with whom he wanted to be.

      “If you keep staring at the door, she’ll never come,” Blythe said, a teasing smile dancing across her expression.

      “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Tucker said, reaching for the newspaper.