“Zach?”

“Hmm?” He shifted her on top of him, loving her slight weight and supple limbs, the husky breathlessness in her voice, the way those soft eyes suddenly lowered in impossible shyness.

“I love you, Mr. Monroe.” Her heart felt full. Singing. Earlier worries hadn’t disappeared; they didn’t need to. Just being with Zach reminded her that they’d already handled their share of problems together, and would again. Moving, the farm, their money crisis…but Zach was always there.

Just as he was there now, vibrantly alive beneath her, warm and in control. He was very good at taking control. His delightfully lazy hand was languidly sifting through her hair as if he would be content to play sensual lover all night. The lower part of his body delivered other messages.

Her finger traced the line of his jaw and then subtly applied pressure so that he turned his head. She raised up a little. Her fingers brushed aside his thick hair, and then slowly her forefinger drew a line around the shell of his ear. Zach tensed beneath her. As she leaned up just a little further, the tips of her breasts grazed his chest and her tongue slipped inside the auricle of his ear.

Zach twisted his head convulsively. “You’ve been reading dirty magazines,” he whispered.

“I have not.” He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were full of laughter. She shook her head. “You will lie back and enjoy this,” she said with mock severity. “You’re supposed to like it. The male of the species is supposed to go stark raving mad when his ear is…um…”

“Tickled to death?” While he had a moment’s advantage, he claimed both her hands and twisted to pin her body beneath him.

She savored the weight of him for a moment. That control of his was slipping; she could feel it in the increased tension in his legs, could see it in his eyes. “Now, it’s possible I don’t have the technique down to perfection.”