“And it wouldn’t matter if I told you that you were beautiful? In the full sun where your skin’s flawless—in candlelight, which turns it to porcelain. It wouldn’t matter,” he continued as he ran a line of moist heat down her throat, “if I told you you excite me as no other woman ever has? Just looking at you makes me want, touching you drives me mad.”

“Words,” she managed, though her head was spinning. “I don’t need—”

Then his mouth covered hers. The one long, deep kiss made lies of all her practical claims. Tonight, though she’d never wanted such things before, she wanted the romance of soft words, soft lights. She wanted the slow, savoring loving that emptied the mind and made a furnace of the body. Tonight she wanted, and there was only one man. If tomorrow there were consequences, tomorrow was hours away. He was here.

She didn’t resist as he lifted her. Tonight, if only for a short while, she’d be fragile, soft. She heard him blow out the candles and the light scent of melted wax followed them toward the bedroom.

Moonlight. The silvery sorcery of moonlight slipped through the windows. Roses. The fragile fragrance of roses floated on the air. Music. The muted magic of Beethoven drifted in from the apartment below.

There was a breeze. Summer felt it whisper over her face as he placed her on the bed. Atmosphere, she thought hazily. If she had planned on a night of lovemaking, she could have set the stage no better. Perhaps… She drew him down to join her…. Perhaps it was fate.

She could see his eyes. Deep blue, direct, involving. He watched her while doing no more than tracing the shape of her face, of her lips, with his finger. Had anyone ever shown her that kind of tenderness? Had she ever wanted it?

No. And if the answer was no, the answer had abruptly changed. She wanted this new experience, the sweetness she’d always disregarded, and she wanted the man who would bring her both.

Taking his face in her hands, she studied him. This was the man she would share this one completely private moment with, the one who would soon know her body as well as her vulnerabilities. She might have wavered over the trust, reminded herself of the pitfalls—if she’d been able to resist the need, and the strength, she saw in his eyes.

“Kiss me again,” she murmured. “No one’s ever made me feel the way you do when you kiss me.”

He felt a surge of pleasure, intense, stunning. Lowering his head, he touched his lips to hers, toying with them, watching her as she watched him while their emotions heightened and their need sharpened. Should he have known she’d be even more beautiful in the moonlight, with her hair spread over a pillow? Could he have known that desire for her would be an ache unlike any desire he’d known? Was it still as simple as desire, or had he crossed some line he’d been unaware of? There were no answers now. Answers were for the daylight.