Gently, with an intensity that rendered her speechless, he kissed each knuckle. He moved to her then, settling her hand on the door and covering it with his own. His other hand went to her silk shirt, deftly releasing each button and tugging the remainder out of her slacks.

She’d known he’d be like this. Naturally trying to control the moment, even when he was visibly struggling to stay gentle. The pads of his fingertips brushed her bare abdomen, and she sucked in air at the jolt of fire that spread through her torso. Gently, he drew his hands up her ribs to her shoulders and slid the shirt down her arms. He had to release her hand to discard the material, and once he had, he took both of her hands and flattened them to the door.

“Now you’re right where I want you,” he rumbled, dipping his head to lick and nip her neck.

She knew at least ten ways to knock him on his butt, but her body took over and she tilted her head to give him better access. “Maybe you’re right where I want you,” she murmured.

“Maybe.” He gently bit the shell of her ear and then kissed her again, going deep and holding nothing back.

She returned his kiss, having to stretch up to meet his mouth. When he released her to let them both breathe, she pulled one of her hands loose. “My turn. Mmm.” She reached for his hem and pulled the thin material up and over his head to reveal his chest. “Angus.” She gentled, her hand flattening over the two healed bullet wounds right beneath his heart, disturbed by how close he’d come to death.

“I was the better shot,” he said, flicking open her front bra clasp with one finger.

This must’ve been when Lassiter shot him, but she wouldn’t say that killer’s name right now. Not when the muscled expanse of Angus’s chest was finally hers to touch. Firm and broad, scarred and strong. Yeah. She leaned in and kissed his pec, a sense of urgency catching her by surprise.

Angus grasped her hips and lifted her against him. She gasped and then grabbed on to his neck, her breasts bare against his skin. His very warm skin. He turned and started walking—she didn’t care where. She pulled him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist and capturing him in her hold.

His stride didn’t alter.

He took over the kiss, a low growl rumbling from his chest into her mouth to zing around her body. He laid her down on a soft down comforter, nimbly releasing the clasp of her pants and sliding them partway down her legs.

He crouched and pulled off her boots, running strong thumbs along the arches of her feet.

When had her feet become erogenous zones?