Chapter 19

GEORGIA'S EYES quickly adjusted to the dim lighting, assisted by the sheen of his pale shirt. Their kisses grew more feverish and more promising, tongues dancing, teeth clicking. And the heat. The stuffy temperature and the sexual energy combined to create moisture at her pulse points. Her senses were sharp-edged, delivering stabs of desire and pleasure that stole her breath. When Georgia could no longer bear the onslaught, she undid the top button on his shirt. The simple act released a torrent of groans and hurried movements until his shirt and the top of her dress lay open to exploring fingers.

His chest was a wall of firm, smooth muscle covered with a triangle of hair. She thumbed his flat, taut nipples, wishing she could see his massive body in full light. His heart thudded beneath her palm, as if the man's hard, insistent erection against her stomach wasn't proof enough that he was alive. He caressed her breasts through her sensible bra, her nipples pearled and aching.

"Harder," she whispered, arching her back.

In answer, he unhooked her bra and released her breasts into his hands, then palmed her flesh and rolled the tips until she cried out. Without warning, he lowered his mouth to her nipple, and the remnants of rational thought fled.

"Ahhhh," she whispered, holding his head against her breast, urging him to draw her deeper into his mouth. He flicked his tongue over the sensitive tip, sending sensations exploding over her in waves, carrying her toward the kind of experience she'd only imagined and now wondered if she could withstand.

It was his touch, she decided, that so aroused her. Firm, yet gentle. Powerful, yet restrained. He caressed her as if she were a special treasure that might break if mishandled. And his voice—or rather, his noises —sent a jolt to her thighs. Responsive, expressive, bold. She countered with enthusiasm as he transferred his attention to her other breast, and explored any part of him she could reach. Ken lifted his head and stared into her eyes, then guided her quaking hand to his waistband.

Georgia understood. He wanted her, but he wanted the decision to be hers. And somehow, his tentativeness in juxtaposition to his ragged breathing was even more titillating. She dragged in air through her open mouth and slid her fingers beneath his waistband to feel bare skin, emanating warmth, and the wet tip of his arousal. When he moaned, feminine power welled in her chest, giving her the confidence to be daring. She loosened his fly and clasped his thick erection, then leaned into him, pressing her breasts against his chest.

With a long, guttural moan, he cupped her bottom and undulated against her, then pulled up her skirt, one fistful at a time, until his hands tugged at her cotton panties. Her knees weakened when his fingers delved inside and for a split second, she thought she might be too overcome to reciprocate. But long-forbidden instincts kicked in, causing her to stroke his straining staff. Taking her cues from the rumbling noises he emitted, she squeezed her hand down the considerable length with a slow and firm hand, wondering what it would feel like to have him inside her. The mere thought produced more lubrication for his fingers.

"Georgia," he murmured. "I want you now, right here."

"Yes," she whispered, amazed that he didn't know how much she wanted him in return.

He groaned with anticipation and bunched the skirt of her dress around her waist. Georgia teased them both by rubbing the tip of his manhood against the front of her panties and was rewarded when his excitement oozed through the thin fabric. From behind, he skimmed her underwear down to her knees, then picked her up and carried her a few feet, settling her on what appeared to be the back of a couch. She clung to his shoulders, feeling the play of his muscles beneath his shirt as he slid her panties down her legs and nudged open her knees. Georgia felt boneless when his shaft trailed along her inner thigh, leaving a path of moisture. In the back of her mind, a tiny alarm sounded, and at the same instant, he hesitated.

"I have protection," he said, his voice low. She felt foolish for not inquiring sooner, and relieved that he shared her concern. The few seconds that passed as he fumbled in his wallet for the condom and rolled it on seemed agonizingly slow. The scent of her own readiness wafted up to tease her nostrils. She urged him to hurry with her hands and her knees, anxious beyond words for their union. At last, he returned to her, wrapping one arm around her back to steady her as he sought entrance to her threshold. Once, twice, three times he probed her wetness, stroking the tip over the heart of her desire until she writhed with expectation. At last he entered her, taking her breath, then filled her slowly.

The rush of adrenaline rose in her body like the mercury of a thermometer thrust into hot water. Inch by inch, she became engorged with white-hot passion, a helpless but intoxicating feeling that made her limbs loose and her mind languid. When they were fully joined. Ken's head fell forward with a great rasping sigh. He kissed her collarbone and murmured erotic words about how good she felt around him, how much he wanted to give her pleasure.

As if the incredible feeling of him pulsing inside her weren't enough, he began to massage her sensitive nub with his thumb in time to short, jolting thrusts that awakened every nerve center. Her climax broke unexpectedly, shattering around her with the force of a sudden thundershower. She groped at his back, crying out as her ecstasy peaked higher and higher, then emitting a long breathless moan as it drained away. His completion came on the heels of hers, a release that wracked his body with powerful spasms that shook the piece of furniture she rested upon. He gasped her name and gathered her to him, holding her as if she were the source of his energy. Georgia felt utterly desirable and fulfilled, and for the first time, understood the French expression for "orgasm"— little death. For one vibrating moment, she wished she could stay locked in his embrace forever, this man who had proved reality could surpass decadent fantasies.

But as their breathing quieted and their pulses returned to normal, the outside encroached. Outside voices rose and fell, and strains of the live band reached their secret hiding place. Georgia became aware of the stickiness of her skin—perspiration and perfume and sex. Unused muscles in her hips and legs screamed. She squirmed and he loosened his grip on her, leaving kisses on her shoulder before he pulled away.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he set her gently on the floor.

"Yes." As he removed the condom, the shallow light from the window danced off his powerful frame, sending a new, yet familiar wave of awareness through her. She averted her gaze, then struggled to right her clothing while struggling to pinpoint her emotions. She was at a disadvantage because she wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel. Grateful? Self-satisfied? Awkward? Somehow she'd reached the ripe old age of thirty without the sexual savvy that most women took for granted.

Her dress billowed at her waist, her bra and panties were missing and not visible in the darkness. Ken pulled up his boxers, but otherwise seemed in no hurry to redress or even to leave, for that matter.

Not that they could leave, since the doorknob had fallen off. They were going to have to pound on the door until someone came. She wiped her hand across her forehead. And how would they explain that they had both wandered into a dark supply closet? She closed her eyes and knelt to find her clothing, trying to cover herself, yet realizing how laughable her modesty must seem at this point. Remorse slammed into her with enough power to force her to clutch the back of the couch. What was she thinking to have sex in a closet with a man she'd known for mere days?

"Here," he said softly, and extended a white object to her in the dark. Her bra.

She turned around to put it on, but he came up behind her and said, "Let me," then fastened the tricky hook for her. After murmuring her thanks, she buttoned her dress hurriedly.

"And here," he said, then extended another white object.

Her panties. Those she could manage on her own. She heard the slide of a zipper and assumed he was repairing his own clothing. Suddenly a dark question darted through her mind: How many closet trysts were on her father's disreputable résumé? Lingering gratification and nagging guilt warred within her. She wouldn't soon forget the physical bliss she'd shared with Ken Medlock, but what kind of place would the world be if everyone went around doing whatever made them feel good? Sex without love was... empty. Disappointing. And, inevitably, destructive.

Her mind reeled. Was it too late to start over with Rob? At least they could build on a foundation of friendship, instead of animal lust. Georgia cast about frantically for a diplomatic way to extricate herself from the lure of Ken Medlock... and her own weakness.

* * *

KEN HAD hoped their remarkable lovemaking would mark a turning point in their fledgling... association, but within seconds Georgia seemed to be slipping out of reach once again.

He cleared his throat, willing words into his head to salvage anything he could out of his abominable lapse in judgment. After all, Georgia wasn't privy to the other facet of their "relationship."

"Georgia, I know what just happened was spontaneous, but I have to admit I've been thinking about it since the first time I saw you." When only silence met his words, he conjured up a small laugh. "In fact, I haven't been able to get you off my mind." He swallowed. "I've been meaning to tell you—"

"Ken, stop." Her voice sounded less than receptive. "I don't know what came over me. I don't expect you to believe this, but I've never done anything like this in my life."

His mind spun. Did she mean make love in a closet to a virtual stranger? Or let down her guard and carry her lover with her to the moon?

Her determined sigh was not encouraging. "It would be best if we didn't see each other again."

"Georgia—"

" Ever. I know these meetings have all been coincidental, but—"

"Georgia—"

"—our paths simply can't keep crossing. There's something—"

"Wonderful?"

"—dangerous about this, this, this—"

"Attraction?"

"Temptation," she amended, and he could hear the frown in her voice. "What happened was a fluke, a freak accident."

Apparently the experience hadn't been quite as mind-blowing for Georgia. Still, dammit... "Falling in the bathtub and breaking your arm is a freak accident. What happened between us was very deliberate, at least on my part."

She gasped. "You planned this?"

He held up a hand, then realized she probably couldn't see him in the dark. "No! I meant once we started kissing..." Ken sighed, knowing he was making an even bigger mess of things, and tried a different tack. "Is this because of your feelings for Trainer?"

She shifted away from him and bumped into something. "Yes," she said finally. "Rob is a good man."

He opened his mouth to tell her what kinds of things Rob was good at, but he stopped short of crossing that line. If Georgia was in love with Trainer, she probably knew about his past. And if she didn't know, he wouldn't be the one to tell her out of what might be construed as sour grapes.

Besides, he was the first to admit he found the woman irresistible, but what could he really offer her if she broke up with Rob? He wasn't ready to settle down, to offer her a committed relationship, and certainly not a home in Knox Ridge and a six-figure salary.

"Can we just get out of here, please?" she asked. "I need to find a phone."

Ken recognized yet another opportunity to confess his deception, before she humiliated herself in front of her boyfriend. But imagining the look on her face when she realized the terrible thing he'd done stopped him. And although her hating him would be the best insulation from the woman's unexplainable appeal, he simply couldn't bear the thought of Georgia Adams hating him.

"Sure thing, ma'am."

She sighed. "Must you call me that?"

"What?"

" Ma'am. "

He was at a loss. "It bothers you?"

He thought he heard her sniff. "It makes me feel like a... stranger."

"I'm sorry. I meant to be respectful."

"Well... don't."

He clamped his mouth shut, sobered by the abrupt change in atmosphere. Misunderstandings. Awkwardness. Complications. All the reasons he'd avoided becoming involved with a woman. And he was foolish to imagine things would be different with Georgia Adams just because his desire for her had reached unbearable proportions.

Feeling worse than lousy, he picked his way back to the door, sized it up, then listened for foot traffic on the other side. Hearing none, he stepped back and, pretending the door was his own backside, kicked it open.

Georgia strode out, leaving behind the scent of her perfume and her body. Ken realized with a sinking feeling that a peaceful sleep did not appear to be anywhere in his near future.