She made biscuits and shot them into the oven before she started on bacon and eggs. He came into the kitchen yawning, just pulling on the long-sleeved white shirt he wore with dark pants.

She stopped in the middle of reaching for an egg and just stared at him. He was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen. Broad, muscular chest covered with thick, curling black hair, narrow waist, lean hips, long, powerful legs...

“What an expression,” he mused with a chuckle. He moved to her side, pulled her hands to his chest and pressed them there, enjoying her expression. Obviously, this was something new, as well. He loved first times with her. She brought out a tenderness in him that he’d rarely felt with any woman, even Grace.

“You’re hairy,” she whispered breathlessly.

“I noticed.” He bent and brushed his mouth over hers. “I like kissing you, Clancey,” he added softly.

She caught her breath. Her pale silver eyes looked up into his black ones. “I like kissing you, too,” she confessed.

He drew in a breath and half lifted her against him. “I’m starving...”

The kitchen was quiet. There wasn’t a sound except her quick breaths and the beat of his heart, unnaturally loud as his mouth settled on hers and opened just enough to make her gasp.

She felt a strange new throbbing in the lower part of her belly, something swollen and a little frightening. She stiffened, just enough that he noticed.

He lifted his head and met her eyes. “It’s as natural as breathing,” he whispered, anticipating what she was afraid to admit. “I have no plans to give it up. Just making you aware of my intentions,” he added on a soft chuckle as he bent his head again and kissed her hungrily.

“You know, I haven’t ever... I mean, I don’t...” she faltered against his firm lips.

He lifted his head. His eyes were stormy, but full of affection. “You know me by now,” he said quietly. “Am I the kind of man who’d take advantage of an innocent woman?”

“Oh, of course not,” she replied immediately, and watched his eyes glimmer with some dark, deep affection.

“So stop worrying,” he whispered against her mouth. “Come on and kiss me. I have to eat and finish dressing.”

“I love you, undressed,” she murmured and then flushed and laughed self-consciously at what she’d blurted out.

He grinned, pressing her hands closer to his broad, hair-roughened chest. “I’d love you the same way,” he whispered. He removed her hands and kissed them before he let them fall. “But one of us has to be sensible. Breakfast. Please.”

She laughed and went back to her cooking. But she felt newborn, elated beyond measure. Until they sat down to breakfast and she sipped coffee and suddenly worried about the future.

“Now what is it?” he teased, watching her expressions change.