He had been so careful with her, forcing her to stay in bed the first few days after her hospital stay and then carrying her to the porch or the sitting room, placing piles of books beside her. He waited on her hand and foot. Each night he held her tight, so tight she could barely breathe. Always, at some point, in the middle of the night, she awakened to his hands moving over her body to feel her heart beat. To assure himself she was alive.

She relaxed into his touch as the pads of his fingers moved over her face, tracing her bone structure. His lips feathered over each eye and trailed along her cheekbone down to the corner of her mouth. That was new. She looked at him, seeing him there in the darkness. His masculine face, lines carved deep. So beautifully male. His eyes had already gone from a dark whiskey to pure gold.

Instantly her body stirred. Came alive. Every nerve ending awoke. She felt an electric burn sizzle through her veins. His lips moved over hers with the same tender touch, back and forth, rubbing along her lips as if he had all the time in the world.

She shivered beneath his touch. She couldn’t help it. No matter how gentle he was, there was an unmistakable possessive feel to his hands. He knew her body, and he knew it intimately. Even the lightest of touches could bring fire to her body, let alone the sweet assault on her senses he’d been conducting nightly.

His mouth moved against hers again, this time coaxing. A little firmer. More demand. His tongue ran along the seam of her lips, while his fingers smoothed up and over her breasts, one palm directly over her heart so he could feel it beating into his hand.

She opened her mouth to his and the world shifted around her. His kisses had always been able to bring her to her knees, but now, after waiting what seemed to be forever, his tongue ignited a firestorm inside of her. She felt the burn pour down her throat, straight to her swollen, aching breasts, radiate outward to spin through her body down to her groin. Instantly her womb clenched. Her sheath spasmed. She went wet and a little desperate, the fire no sweet ache, but a roaring monster of hunger and need.