It was wickedly wonderful to be tucked up beneath a man’s body as he stroked and caressed sensitive areas that she’d never before realized were aching for a man’s touch. The underside of her breasts, the expanse of her back, the inside of her thighs, the back of her knees. He was tall with long arms that could reach so much of her without having to stretch. Although it no doubt helped that when he went for her calf, she bent her leg so a portion of it rested against his hip, giving him easier access. They moved in tandem, each seeming to instinctually know what the other required. She’d never known such fulfillment, such an intense sense of belonging with another.

Oh, she belonged with her family, had never doubted that, but this was an entirely different level of acceptance, of discovering where she fitted, and she fit against him perfectly. And she knew that all their encounters from the moment he’d strode into her bookshop had been leading her toward this. Want. Need. Satisfaction.

Every other man she’d met had failed to make her even think about leaping onto a bed with him, but with Matthew the desire had always been hovering, just beneath surface, teasing and taunting. Here, at last, it was coming to fruition.

Once more his hand trailed down her thigh, beneath her knee, back up. Only this time, it went higher, took a detour, and his deft fingers parted her folds, stroked the tender flesh. She relaxed into the passion. She knew how the quest would end and had no reservations regarding where he would lead her.

“You’re so wet,” he rasped. “So ready for me.” He slid his finger inside her, and lovely sensations swamped her. “And so damned tight.”

“Is all of that good?”

She felt his smile against the curve of her neck. “All of that is wonderful.”

Shifting until he was nestled between her thighs, he kissed the underside of her chin, her collarbone, the hollow between her breasts. Then he took her mouth even as he took her body, pushing into her slowly, gently, giving her time to adjust as her body stretched to accommodate him. She dug her fingers into his back, scraped them along his spine. When he was fully seated inside her, she wrapped her legs around him, held him.

He began to move, just short strokes at first, and then they lengthened, coming faster, with more purpose, more intensity. She felt the pleasure begin to swell, from where they were joined, outward to the tips of her fingers, the tips of her toes, even to the ends of her hair. Her cries mingled with his grunts, and she thought no symphony would ever sound as sweet.