“I want—” Her hands shook as she gripped his shirt. She steadied herself by staring into his eyes. “I want you, more than I ever imagined.” Now watching him, she unbuttoned his shirt, reaching up to tug it over his shoulders. Then her gaze lowered.

“Oh.” It was a sigh of delight and admiration. This was a body hardened and defined by labor and sweat rather than machines. Experimentally she spread her hands over his chest where the skin was smooth over solid strength, and his heartbeat jumped.

Then hers leaped into her throat as he loosened the waistband of her slacks. Mesmerized, she felt him take her hand, balancing her as she stepped free. But when she reached for him, he shook his head. Even the patience of love had its limits.

“Lie with me,” he murmured. “Come lie with me.”

He lowered her to the blanket and captured her mouth.

He touched her with a terrifying tenderness, molding her breasts, giving himself the aching pleasure of slipping beneath the cotton to test and tease. He needed the flavor that tempted him along her throat, over her shoulders. When his tongue skimmed, as his fingers had, under the material to lave her nipple, she arched like a bow.

“Now.” Her breath sobbed out. “For God’s sake.”

He only flicked open the front clasp of her bra and took her silkily into his mouth.

Tormented, exhilarated, she pressed him closer. Beneath him her movements were frantic, shameless. He was undoing her with tongue and teeth and lips, making her beg with stumbling, breathless words. The flash came so fast, so hot, she reared up, gripping the blanket in defense. The hard, jittery climax had her shuddering, shuddering until she fell limply back.

Impossible. Fighting for breath she lifted a weighted hand to push at her hair. It wasn’t possible. No one had ever made her feel so much.

On a groan of his own, Murphy pressed his lips to her flesh, letting his hand roam lower now, over the curve of her waist and hips. “Shannon, I love you. Ever and always.”

“I can’t—” Weak, she laid a hand on his back. It was damp, she realized dimly, the muscles tightly bunched. “I need a minute.” But his mouth was skimming over her rib cage. “God, what are you doing to me?”

“Pleasuring you.” And he intended to do more to her, had to do more to her. The need was building painfully inside him, all hot blood and violent lust he knew he could only chain down for so long. He tugged the skimpy panties over her hips, and nipped. “Pleasuring me.”

Her body was a treasure of dark delights he intended to explore fully. But the time for leisure had passed. Greedy now, he took, reveling in her frenzied movements, her gasps and cries.

He wanted her like this, helplessly his, clawing at him as he drove her ruthlessly into flame after flame. And when she was writhing and wet and wild, it still wasn’t enough.