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  She looked at him like he was crazy, but when his gaze didn’t waver, she took his hand, shook it firmly. “Hi, Jace Morgan. I’m Suzanna York, Marshall County’s newest CPA.”

  He kept her hand clasped between them as he crowded her back against the wall. “I need to warn you, Ms. York. I grew up around these parts. And you’re liable to hear a few stories about me and my brothers.”

  “Are you telling me they’re not true?” she asked, blinking her eyes innocently, unable to wipe the wicked curve from her lips.

  His smile spread to a grin. “No, I’m just telling you not to worry about them. I’m a grown man now, responsible, hard working.”

  She ran a finger down his face, across his lower lip. “And no longer trouble?”

  He moved quick, nipped the tip of her finger, making her yelp in surprise and pull it away. He leaned over, pulled her finger back into his mouth, tongued the sore end, slowly let it slide back out again. “Well, maybe just a little.” He shifted, took another finger into his mouth, made her gasp as he pulled tight, then let it slide free. “What about you? You look like a nice girl. Probably I shouldn’t have you up in my hotel room, with your shirt half undone and your fingers wet from my mouth. I might not be able to stop from making the rest of you wet as well.”

  “You might be too late for that,” she said, half-choking on the words as he ran the tip of his tongue down the center of her palm, then sunk his teeth lightly into the heel of her hand.

  She gasped, squirmed against him, then moaned when he took two of her fingers into his mouth this time. Slid up, then down, then back up again. All the while his gaze never once left hers.

  “Well,” she managed, half-breathless, “you’re liable to hear some stories about me, too. You see, I grew up around here, as well. Got mixed up with one of those Morgan boys as a girl. Never did seem to recover.”

  “Is that right?”

  Her smile faded just a little. “Yeah, that’s exactly right.”

  He kept his grin in place, but when he spoke, he’d never been more serious. “Well, let’s just see if I can make you forget all about that boy.” He took her hands and pushed them back against the wall on either side of her head. He laced his fingers between hers, then slid her hands up as he came up hard against her body. “I only want you to remember this. Remember me. Here. Now.”

  Her chest was rising and falling as he nipped at her lower lip, trailed hot, open mouth kisses along her jaw.

  “I don’t know if I can,” she choked out between gasps. “I don’t want to forget that boy.”

  Jace’s head came up.

  “He’s part of what makes this man so special,” she said.

  “Zan,” he said, half-broken by her heartfelt words. He’d been crazy to think they could separate past from present. Much less present from future. He pressed his forehead against hers, squeezing his eyes shut. “Maybe this is stupid after all. We’re playing with fire here.” He opened his eyes, lifted his head. “We’ve hurt each other enough.”

  “You don’t want to hurt me, and I don’t want to—”

  “We’re just coming back home. Neither of us is going anywhere. What happens here will have to be dealt with.”

  “Just like all the rest. We can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

  “Well, I don’t want to end up pretending this didn’t happen either.” He let her go, shoved away from the wall.

  “So, what? We’re going to stand across the room from each other? Talk casually like old friends? Maybe decide to, oh, I don’t know, date?”

  He spun around. “Is that so insane a thing to want to do?”

  “For anyone else, no. But for us?” She raked a hand through her hair, paced to the window, turned to face him. “Look at us, Jace. We haven’t seen each other in ten years, have little to no idea what or who we’ve become—and does it matter? No. We can’t keep our hands off each other. And, you know what’s really scary? I don’t want to.”

  “You’re right. And I’d be lying if I said I wanted to. But like I said earlier, we don’t always get what we want. Just because we want to have at each other doesn’t mean we should. I want to believe it doesn’t matter. Trust me, my body wants me to believe nothing else matters right now except getting both of us naked and me inside of you as fast as possible. And for as long as possible. Maybe even longer.”

  She swallowed hard. Twice. “You seem to have outgrown your awkward shy stage with women,” she said, trying for dry humor.

  He managed to find a smile. “I’m not so sure about other women. But I figure keeping quiet about what I want didn’t help me much last time around. Throwing you on the bed might not be the smartest thing to do this go round. Not if we want to keep going around.” He shook his head, shrugged a little. “So I’m trying to clear the fog a little. I feel like I’m on a freaking emotional seesaw here and I don’t want to do anything stupid. Hell, maybe I already have. Maybe stopping this is the stupidest thing I’ve done yet. But some part of me thinks that maybe, just maybe, it would be smarter if we figured out who the hell we are to each other before we get naked. Decide if this is what we really want, or if it’s just the past jangling us all up inside.”

  “And what if it is the past talking?” Now she stalked across the room right toward him. “We’re adults. Consenting. Single. Willing adults.”

  “Adults who’ll be living in the same town, seeing each other all the time.”

  “And? You’ve already had me, Jace, nothing can change that.” She kept on coming, pushing his chest, shoving at him until the backs of his legs hit the foot of the bed. “And no amount of talking about our past is going to change the fact that you want me again. Now. It sure as hell isn’t going to make me stop wanting you. So here’s our chance. Maybe we’ll both figure out we’re chasing memories; that what was special before is no big deal now.” She pushed hard and he fell back on the bed. She pulled her sweater over her head. “And we can both move on then, no fault, no blame.” She threw her sweater in the corner, began to slide the straps of her soft pink silk bra off her shoulders.

  Jace’s heart had locked up. As had his throat. Otherwise he’d have surely stopped her, done something, said something, anything to let her know this was crazy. A mistake as sure as the one he’d made not tracking her down ten years ago. And hadn’t they already made enough mistakes?

  But then she was peeling off that bra and, sweet Mother of God she was as beautiful, more beautiful, than he’d ever remembered. And stupid or not, he wanted her more than he wanted his next breath, more than he had any right to. And he didn’t care. He was dizzy from trying to get his emotions back on a level plane, from trying to do what was right, over what was the most damn fun.

  She slid her trousers down legs that simply went on forever, then climbed right on top of him. And he knew without a shred of doubt what would be fun right now. In fact it would be sheer heaven. And though he might very well damn himself to hell later, he did nothing to stop her from introducing him to heaven right now. Any rationale, any fight he had left was gone when she tugged his flannel shirt free, then popped every button off the front with one ripping tug.

  His hands came up, gripped her waist. Her skin was so warm, so damn soft. “Zanna—”

  She leaned down, pressed a finger across his lips. “Eyes wide open. No promises, no commitments. Just what we both want, for as long as we want it.” She leaned down, pressed a soft kiss to the center of his chest, then one to his chin, then a heartbreakingly sweet one on his lips, one that was completely at odds with the way that hot damp stretch of silk between her legs was pressed tight up against the strained fly of his jeans. “And I don’t know about you, but until I’ve had this,” she wiggled down on him, “I can’t think about anything else.”

  “Nope,” he said, his throat a dry knot, his body a live wire. “Not a damn thing.”

  “But I’m warning you now. I don’t think we’re going to want to walk away when we’re done here. No matter how long we tal
k into the night.” She sat up, reached for his belt. “Or the morning.” She flipped the end free, squeezed her thighs to press herself down on him farther, making him arch his back and groan. She moaned, but slid the belt free of the loops anyway. “Or the next night.” She hung his belt around her neck, and popped the button open on his jeans. “Because I do think this is the beginning of something more than a one-, or two-, or three-night stand.” She slowly tugged the very strained zipper of his jeans down.

  He held his breath, twitched hard when her fingers grazed against his briefs. “Zanna,” he warned, knowing he’d explode if she tortured him for another second. And he’d be damned if he’d explode anywhere except buried tightly inside of her.

  She smiled and tugged at the waistband of his jeans, hooking his briefs with her fingertips as well. “And I think that’s a risk worth taking.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Wait—”

  “I swear to God, Jace Morgan, if you don’t just let us—”

  “I was going to ask about protection,” he said, far too riled up with a mostly naked Zan straddling his waist to give much of a damn about much of anything. Except that. “But what, exactly, were you going to threaten me with if I didn’t ‘just let us?’”

  A very adult, very wicked grin curved her lips as she took his belt from her neck, doubled it up and snapped it.

  His eyes grew wide. “A lot has changed, but me not being into pain isn’t one of them,” he said warily.

  She laughed and uncurled the soft worn strip of leather. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking of using it that way.”

  His body twitched hard, oblivious to any concerns his brain might be registering. “Oh?” he choked out.

  She slowly looped the belt through the open part of the buckle and pulled, then took one of his hands and circled the loop over it.

  “Now wait just a minute,” he said, though his body was clamoring full speed ahead.

  She took his other hand and slid it through the loop, then slowly cinched the leather down snug on his wrists. And he didn’t do a damn thing to stop her. Probably because she’d slid up a bit, until she was snug up against the one part of him screaming to be taken any way she saw fit, for as long and hard as she wanted it.

  She tugged his wrists up over his head, scooting her body up as she did. He groaned, then sighed in disappointment as the sweet pressure of her body left the achingly hard part of his. But he was soon distracted by her leaning down as she tugged his hands up over his head. Those sweet breasts, tipped with perfect nipples so hard and begging for his tongue.

  His mouth was on them before he realized what she was doing, not that he cared a great deal at the moment. She moaned, stilled for a second, then shifted slightly so he could give the same lavish attention to her other nipple.

  “Oh, oh my . . . oh yes,” she murmured, then finally redoubled her efforts as he continued with his own. “I’m not sure who is bound to whom,” she said when she finally slid down his body.

  Bound? He twisted beneath her. “What the hell?” He tugged his wrists, which were now secured to the wrought iron headboard—by his own belt! “Zanna,” he said, tone full of warning.

  She smiled, devilment and innocence all mixed up in a sea of blue. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “That’s a very loaded question,” he said darkly.

  She didn’t even blink. “Well, now I can earn my way back into your good graces.” She slid down, shifting her weight exactly where he wanted it. And damn if he didn’t groan, long and loud. The damp tips of her breasts drew an erotic path down his chest, tickling through the soft swirl of hair, making her catch her own breath. “And your conscience can’t get the best of both of us.”

  “Oh, I’m thinking the best of both of us is going to have little to do with either of our consciences. Until tomorrow morning anyway.”

  She smiled. “Exactly.” She pressed a kiss in the center of his chest, then swirled her tongue quickly around one nipple, then the other. He gasped, bucked despite himself. She leaned in and pressed a hot kiss to his mouth. “And hopefully when tomorrow morning comes, we’ll have no regrets,” she whispered against his lips.

  “I hope not, Zan. I hope to God not.”

  She looked into his eyes, all teasing gone. “You know, as teenagers, we thought we were so smart, so mature. We took things slowly, each step in our relationship a monumental, well-planned-out move. The summer we went to college, we even walked away from each other calmly, rationally. My heart ached for you. I know yours did for me. And yet we did the mature thing.” She slid down and yanked his jeans and briefs over his hips. Never taking her gaze from his. “We were young and in lust, in love, and we never once did anything rash. Never did anything impulsively.” She yanked at his jeans down farther, freeing him, every last hard, throbbing inch of him. To do with whatever she wanted. He wanted her to do with him whatever she wanted, certain he was not only going to not mind it . . . he might actually become addicted to it.

  He was already toeing out of his boots even as she helped yank them the rest of the way off. Everything else followed, including her panties. And then she was climbing back up his body on her hands and knees, pushing his legs wide, sliding her hands up his thighs, cupping him, stroking him. Resting on her stomach, she slid her hands along the hard, veined shaft, making it jump. Making him groan.

  “Well,” she said, no longer looking at him, but eyeing what she so possessively had in her grasp. “Maybe this time we should be impulsive. Be more honest about what we want. More direct about going after it.”

  “I think I am in complete agreement about that at the moment,” he said, then growled deep in his throat when she circled him with her tongue.

  “You know,” she said, oh-so-conversationally, while she was killing him by inches. Very specific inches. “And I’m not excusing the past,” she went on, between swirls of what had become an incredibly talented tongue. “But maybe things happen for a reason. Maybe we did have some of it right back then.” She slipped the head of his cock between her lips and he bucked hard. Only her arms pressing across his thighs kept him from pushing deep into her hot, wet mouth.

  “Zanna, for God’s sake,” he said through gritted teeth.

  She trailed the tip of her tongue along one rigid vein, then back up again. He thought he might actually climb out of his skin, the pleasure vibrated through him so intensely. Then she slipped him fully inside her mouth, or as fully as she was able, and his head slammed back against the bed, his arms straining tightly against the tether of his belt.

  Before he could peel his eyes open again, she was moving up his body. Slowly. Brushing the full, twitch-ingly hard length of him, damp from her own mouth, along her body as she did. Between her breasts, down her belly, through the soft curls to—

  “Sweet God,” he sighed. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew there was something they hadn’t . . . something he hadn’t—but she was pushing him inside and—“Protection,” he mustered.

  “Pill,” she whispered against his ear, just before she nipped his earlobe this time.

  He jerked hard, the tip of him just inside of her, unable to maneuver at all with her thighs clamped around his.

  He forced his eyes open, forced his head to stop spinning, and looked at her. Goddamn but she was like some Amazon siren, hair wild and free, body his for the taking. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Zan,” he managed, but was only looking into her eyes when he said it. Eyes that despite being drowsed with desire were looking at him the way no other woman ever had. He wondered if she saw that same need, that same bond, and yes, dammit, that same love, in his own.

  “That’s what I meant,” she whispered, her own voice strained now with need that he was so close, that they were so close to finally being joined together again. She started to sink down onto him. “Maybe we had to go out and find our way in the world after all, be ready to come back home, ready to come back to each other.” She pushed him deep inside wit
h one thrust, screamed a little as she did, then fell over on top of him, taking his mouth as she did.

  He kissed her almost savagely, hips bucking into hers as she took him and took him hard. He was frustrated by not being able to hold her, not being able to direct the path of their joining in anyway, but that only lasted for an instant. Letting her control things had its own reward. And he knew he’d have his turn.

  When she finally tore her mouth from his, they’d made it past the first furious thrusts and had settled into a slower, deeper, more gratifying pace. She kissed her way to his neck, around to his ear. “No matter what, I’m glad we’re here together, like this, with you.” She squeezed, he thrust hard, and she moaned deep and long.

  “Like this,” he rasped. “Do you know how often I’ve thought of you, of this, of us?” He no longer cared how vulnerable he’d become. God knows she had him coming and going at the moment. Literally.

  “I’m guessing as often as I have. I’m sorry, Jace,” she whispered, and he could hear the pain and emotion in her words. “Sorry I ever hurt you. Hurt myself. Hurt us both.”

  “You’re not hurting me now,” he said, and nudged her cheek with his nose, his chin, until she looked at him. “Cut me loose, Zanna,” he told her, his gaze burning into hers. “I need to hold you. Take you the way I’ve needed to every night for the past ten years.”

  Her breath caught, and they both moaned a little in disappointment when she had to slide free of him in order to reach the belt buckle.

  The instant he was free, he rolled her onto her back, pinned her neatly under his body, pinned her hands beside her head. “Maybe you were right, maybe we did need to find our own way back to each other. But now that we have, I sure as hell hope you don’t plan on leaving me anytime soon.” He grabbed the end of the belt, which was still tethered to the headboard. “Or I just might have to keep you here, naked, under me, like this—” He thrust into her, all the way, and she arched, gasped struggled to get free so she could hold him. “Any way I can,” he finished through clenched teeth.