He would be leaving soon. It was inevitable. He simply could not stay. There was no place for him at Garrett Park, or there wouldn’t be once Harriet knew of his past mistakes. There was goodness here, with the Wards, but most especially with Harriet herself. And he was far, far less than he should be.

The thought made the moment all the more sweet. And he knew that in a way, he was trying to leave her with something, a memory of himself that might never fade. He thrust into her deeply. She gasped, her legs tightening about his waist as she moved beneath him.

Chase tasted her neck, her throat, his hands never slowing, never still. He wanted her to remember this moment, this second for the rest of her life.

Suddenly, she arched against him, her cry of pleasure ringing through the air. Chase gritted his teeth as she clenched about him. God, she was sweet, but he would not release. Not yet.

After an agonizing moment, she relaxed beneath him, her breathing ragged against his neck.

“You are divine,” he managed to say, feeling her breasts against his chest, her hips firm with his. She was a conundrum, this woman. Strength mixed with curves.

He bent down and kissed her, capturing her water-sweetened lips with his.

Harriet didn’t move—she couldn’t. For an instant, she thought her heat-sizzled mind had finally let go of the last vestiges of sanity. Surely this was a dream of some sort, induced by the heat and the strain of the last few days.

But…his lips felt real as they closed over hers, warm and insistent.

His hand, before gently resting on her elbows, slid up to her shoulders as he pulled her close, her chest against his.

She was encircled, captured, held in place as if spellbound. The kiss deepened, and Harriet leaned into the embrace, completely lost to his touch. A shiver of heat prickled up her spine, all thinking coming to an abrupt halt.

Heaven help her, but he was delectable. Every handsome, frustrating inch of him. She wanted this. Wanted him to kiss her. Wanted, for one moment, to be the only woman that Chase St. John thought of.

The thought spurred her on. She ran her hands up his chest, marveling at the tautness of his stomach, his shoulders. A new need grew within her. She wanted to drive him as mad with desire as he had driven her. She wanted to give back what he had already given. “What—” She bit her lip, searching for the words.

He kissed her cheek, her neck. “What’s what?” he asked.

“What do you like?” Her whisper was broken, hesitant.

He stopped then and lifted his head, his eyes dark, questioning.

She placed her hands on either side of his face and drew him forward until he was looking directly into her eyes. “What do you want?”

A slow, masculine smile touched his lips. “With you—everything.” His smile faded, his eyes burning brighter. “Absolutely everything.”