Knowing she was already weakening, Maggie lifted her hands to his wrists. “Put some effort into it,” she advised as she tried to push him aside.

“I have for the past few days.” His fingers pressed into her skin and released, pressed and released, in a rhythm that caused her bones to liquefy. “I decided it was a misdirection of energy when I could put the same effort into making love to you.”

Her mind was starting to haze, her breath beginning to tremble. “We’ve nothing to give each other.”

“We both know better than that.” He lowered his head so that his lips could brush along the temple he’d seen her stroke while on the phone.

A sigh escaped before she stopped it. This wasn’t what she wanted—it was everything she wanted. “Sex is—”

“A necessary and enjoyable part of life,” Cliff finished before he moved his lips down to tease hers.

So this was seduction, Maggie thought as her mind began to float. This was arousal without will. She knew she wasn’t resisting, but yielding, melting, submitting, just as she knew that when surrender was complete, her bridges would be in flames behind her.

“We’ll only be two people sharing a bed,” she murmured. “There’s nothing else.”

Whether it was a question or a statement, Cliff tried to believe it was true. If there was more, it wouldn’t end, and he’d find himself tangled around a woman he barely understood for the rest of his life. If there were only needs, he could relinquish his control and race with them. If there was only desire, he could take whatever he wanted with no consequences. When she was softening and heating in his arms, what did he care for consequences?

“Let me feel you,” he murmured against her lips. “I want your skin under my hands, smooth and hot, your heart pounding.”

Anything, she thought dizzily. She’d give him anything, as long as he stayed close like this, as long as his mouth continued that dark, desperate, delirious seduction of her senses. He tugged her T-shirt over her head, then ran his hands down her sides, up again, so that the friction had her nearly mad for more. His shirt scraped against her taut nipples until his hands came between them to possess.

He could feel her heart beat now, and she could hear it pounding in her own head. Her thighs pressed against his with only two layers of thin, soft denim between. She could remember every slope and plane of his body, how it had felt warm and urgent and naked on hers.

He smelled of work and the outdoors, traces of sweat and turned earth. As the scent raced through her senses, she took her lips over his face and throat to draw in the taste.