He slipped a hand under her sweater and found her. Beneath his palm, her heartbeat pounded. Not enough. The thought raced through his mind that it would never be enough. But questions, reason, were for later. Burying his face against her throat he tasted her skin. The scent he remembered lingered there, enticing him further, drawing him closer to the edge where there could be no turning back. The fatigue he’d felt when he’d entered the room vanished. The tension he felt whenever she was near evaporated. At that moment, he considered her completely his without realizing he’d wanted exclusive possession.

Her hair brushed over his face, cloud soft, fragrant. It made him think of Paris, right before the heat of summer took over from spring. But her skin was hot and vibrating, making him envision long humid nights when lovemaking would be slow, endlessly slow. He wanted her there, in the cramped little room where the floor was littered with boxes.

She couldn’t think. Summer could feel her bones dissolve and her mind empty. Sensation after sensation poured over her. She could have drowned in them. Yet she wanted more—she could feel her body craving more, wanting all. Storm, thunder, heat. Just once…the longing seeped into her with whispering promises and dark pleasure. She could let herself be his, take him as hers. Just once. And then…

With a moan, she tore her mouth from his and buried her face against his shoulder. Once with Blake would haunt her for the rest of her life.

“Come upstairs,” Blake murmured. Tilting her head back, he ran kisses over her face. “Come up with me where I can make love with you properly. I want you in my bed, Summer. Soft, naked, mine.”

“Blake…” She turned her face away and tried to steady her breathing. What had happened to her—when—how? “This is a mistake—for both of us.”

“No.” Taking her by the shoulders, he kept her facing him. “This is right—for both of us.”

“I can’t get involved—”

“You already are.”

She let out a deep breath. “No further than this. It’s already more than I intended.”

When she started to back away, he held her firmly in front of him. “I need a reason, Summer, a damn good one.”

“You confuse me.” Summer blurted it out before she realized it, then swore at the admission. “Damn it, I don’t like to be confused.”

“And I ache for you.” His voice was as impatient as hers, his body as tense. “I don’t like to ache.”

“We’ve got a problem,” she managed, dragging a hand through her hair.

“I want you.” Something in the way he said it made her hand pause in midair and her gaze lift to his. There was nothing casual in those three words. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. I’m not comfortable with that.”

“A big problem,” she whispered and sat unsteadily on the edge of the table.

“There’s one way to solve it.”