His palm curled around her breast, his thumb brushing back and forth across her nipple. So taut, so tender, that sensitive flesh. He knew Bett. He knew exactly what ignited her primitive side. The small, perfect breast that barely filled his palm changed with a certain touch, swelled and hardened; he could feel the ache inside her begin to build. Her breasts were unbelievably sensitive. So were her inner thighs, her bottom. A caress around her navel could annoy her, throw her off a building rhythm. Bett was easily distracted; even just an odd sound in the night, and she had to be wooed back into the mood. She could be quite distressed with herself when that happened.
He had no intention of letting anything distract or distress her tonight.
She’d been upset by the call from her mother, he knew that. More than Bett would ever know, Zach resented the thought of a third person coming to live with them. If he’d invited the problem, it was for Bett’s sake; he knew they had the strength in their marriage to live through this. Still, he was used to having Bett all to himself. He wanted, needed and counted on having Bett to himself. Like now. Bett was here. A black night surrounded them; Bett was damned well on fire. So was he. When he leaned over her, she wrapped her legs around his waist, forcing that first thrust so deeply inside her that he swore he touched her soul. Or his.
Chapter 3
Bett had been trying to convince herself for the past hour that the rain was only a drizzle. It wasn’t easy. Water was dripping from her matted lashes and dribbling down her neck, her hair was slicked to her scalp, and her T-shirt was wet even under the yellow slicker. It was eleven o’clock on the first morning of September, and nature couldn’t have chosen a nastier time to get touchy.