She sighed again, put-upon. “Dudley Do-Right,” she muttered. “Fine.” She wriggled her hips again, trying to slide from his hold, but he was having none of that.

“Don’t go.” He punctuated his plea with another kiss. “Please.”

He lowered them both to the sofa until he sat with his head back against the cushion and she straddled him on her knees, his hands rubbing up and down her thighs restlessly.

She smiled down at him, her expression wicked. “I could talk like this for a while.”

He shook his head, unable to keep the smile from his face. “I need to say a few things. I need you to hear me.”

She drew a breath and let it out, then sat back on his lap. “All right. I’m listening.”

“You said that you’ve . . .” He felt his cheeks heat, and his eyes narrowed because she was grinning at him like the spitfire she was. “What?” he demanded.

She swept her thumbs over his cheeks. “You’re blushing. It’s sweet.”

He rolled his eyes. “I am not sweet.”

“Oh, okay. You are mean.” She folded her hands in her lap, demurely waiting. Except for her eyes, which danced with an amusement that he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

I love you. He startled, not sure when “wanting her” and “longing for her” had become “loving her.” But the words were true. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. But he held the three words back. Not yet. He needed to say other things first. Important things.

“You said that you’ve loved me since you were seventeen.”

She abruptly sobered, his intent finally seeming to register. “I did.”

“I . . .”

She smiled ruefully. “You don’t have to say it, Tom. I’d rather you wait until you know it’s true than just say words back to me.”

“But that’s just it. I have loved you that long.”

Her smile dropped away, her expression instantly wary. “But?”

“It wasn’t like yours. Not then. Then, when I was twenty and you were seventeen, I knew I liked you. I knew I felt something for you.” He huffed an awkward laugh. “I wanted you?”

A new smile bloomed. Sheer delight. “You did? Back then?”

“I did. But you were seventeen and you were grieving and I would never have taken advantage of you that way.”

She traced his lower lip with her fingertip. “I know. But I have to say that knowing you wanted to is an ego boost.”

He winced. “I never meant to make you feel . . . less.”

“I know that, too.” She drew a deep breath and braced her shoulders. “And then?”

“Then you joined the army and I was pissed off.”

“I remember that.”

“You were eighteen and I’d planned something . . .” He felt himself blushing again, his embarrassment made worse by the way she was watching him with wide eyes.

“Something?” she prompted. “Something . . . sexual?”