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  He was going to make love with her.

  If he meant to resist the thought, he found that he hadn’t the strength. He wanted this too much. Peter folded his arms around her as the kiss deepened almost of its own accord, taking him prisoner as it did so.

  She made his head spin, his blood surge. She made him remember just how long it had been since he’d wanted a woman this badly.

  Two years.

  An eternity ago.

  If there was guilt, he blocked it, needing just this once to have this wild, unorthodox woman who made him forget everything else. To give in to the passion and make love with her. To remember what he’d tried so hard to bury—that he was a man, with a man’s desires, a man’s feelings. Because this was the only time he could allow himself to have feelings. When he made love.

  And if it was wrong—and he knew in his heart that it had to be—then he would deal with it all tomorrow. But not now.

  This was what she’d wanted, what she’d waited for. What she’d known was on the verge of happening. She’d teased him about there being psychic abilities in her family, but in truth, there had been some. Her great-grandfather had been a seer, as well, and there were times she just knew things were going to happen. Just before she’d accepted her diploma, she’d looked at three empty seats in the audience, seats that her family might have been in, and known with a chilling certainty that something had happened to them even before anyone had come to tell her. And when she’d met Peter that very first time in the hospital, even though she hadn’t been sure if he was the one to operate on Blue, she’d sensed that one day they would be together like this.

  “My room is just down the hall,” she breathed against his mouth when her brain allowed her to string a few words together.

  She could sense that he was trying very hard to put the brakes on before he went completely into a skid as Peter pulled his head back and looked at her.

  “Raven, maybe I should go—” He was aware of his own blood pumping wildly through his veins, aware of desire chewing huge holes into him. But that was no excuse for what he was allowing to happen.

  Disappointment drenched her. But she couldn’t force him into this. It had to be something he wanted. In her heart, she knew what he was going through, knew that he had to be afraid. She certainly was because she was taking a huge risk. Reaching out to someone. Making herself vulnerable to someone. She was friendly, outgoing, but there was always a part of herself she kept locked away. Until now.

  She could only step out so far on the tightrope on her own.

  “The choice is yours,” she whispered.

  It was and, heaven help him, he was probably making the wrong one.

  He found her mouth again, kissed her again. Kissed her so that all the logical thoughts that assaulted his brain didn’t have a prayer of getting through.

  Her heart raced so fast, she was afraid it would pop out of her chest. She put every bit of passion she felt into her kiss.

  And then he was picking her up into his arms, sweeping her off her feet.

  “Where?” The single word was husky, echoing into her very soul.

  She pointed to her door. Everything within her was on heightened alert, a step away from being singed in the fire that had already begun to consume her.

  Her heart had somehow gotten tangled up without her realizing it. In her effort to save the man, to make him feel again, she’d lost herself. More than anything, she was afraid she was allowing herself to make a mistake. But either way, there would be regrets. Regrets if she didn’t allow this to happen.

  Regrets if she did.

  She knew she’d rather have a piece of something, than feel remorse over emptiness.

  As they crossed the threshold to her room, she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him harder, praying that the night that shimmered in front of her would last forever.

  Chapter Twelve

  He’d always been a slow lover, a patient lover. But it had been so long since he had been, either. There was an urgency inside of him, drumming its fingers against his soul, that drove him on, made him want to run where he would have walked.

  It took almost superhuman control to rein himself in even moderately. He couldn’t allow the demands that battered against him to break free and take him over entirely.

  Setting Raven down on the floor in front of her bed, he felt behind him for the door and closed it. He didn’t want to spend a second not looking at her. She was beautiful and right now, everything he wanted.

  That was why it almost killed him to say it, but he knew, in all good conscience, that he had to do it, that he had to force the words out of his mouth. “I can stop.”

  “But then I’d have to kill you,” she whispered. Up against him, she twined her body around his. All their parts fit together so well, as if they were two halves of a whole. She looked up at him, her face less than an inch away from his. Her eyes were serious. “Do you want to stop?”

  “Oh God, no.” He had to be truthful. Stopping now was the last thing he wanted.

  “Good, because I don’t want you to, either.” Her breath seductively caressed his skin.

  It was all that was needed. Instincts took over, instincts that seemed to wiggle their way out of the crypt he’d placed them in. He hadn’t been with a woman since Lisa. Hadn’t wanted to be with a woman since Lisa. He’d never been a man who had been driven by sexual appetites. That had never been foremost in his life. Granted, before Lisa, he’d slept with a few women, but not nearly as many as a man his age might have.

  To him sex was secondary. First there had to be some kind of feeling, some kind of a connection. Sex for sex’s sake had always seemed so meaningless to him. A waste of time and energy that could have been better devoted to something else. Something fulfilling. Like saving lives, or at the very least, bettering them.

  The very first time he had seen Raven, she had gotten to him. Gotten under his skin, into his brain. He’d spent more time denying that he wanted her than he had doing almost anything else since the day he met her.

  The time for denial was past.

  And maybe, after this was over, he could put it behind him and get back to life as he knew it. Life with some kind of purpose, some kind of direction and things like passions and desires would once again become just words in a dictionary. Words that had nothing to do with him.

  But first, he needed to make love with her.

  He took the edges of the short, light blue sweater that hardly brushed against the top of her belt and raised them up over her head. He discarded it without a glance, finding that what he’d suspected was true. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

  With hands that were already tingling, he gently cupped her breasts. The very act made something in his gut tighten so hard, taking in a deep breath was almost impossible. Seeing her like this didn’t help steady his pulse, either.

  Her skin felt like silk. He heard her raspy breath against his ear. It drove him on, stirring him more, making him wonder how he’d managed to hold himself in check for even this long.

  Slipping his fingers in along the waistband of her jeans, Peter felt her stomach quiver beneath his touch. She was breathing harder now. And then he realized that the sound he heard was coming from him. His breathing mimicked hers. Raven stirred his blood, heating it, making it surge through his veins with a degree of energy he’d long since forgotten.

  He realized that while he’d been undressing her, she’d been undoing his shirt. Pushing it off his shoulders, she turned her attention to the button on his pants. Within seconds, his own clothes had slipped off, joining hers on the floor.

  Guiding her to him, he stepped aside, leaving the heap on the floor.

  She had on thong underwear with a bevy of colorful, tiny butterflies fluttering strategically around the rim. He placed the heel of his hand there, feeling her warmth as it generated through. The warmth traveled up his arm, all but setting him on fire.

  Peter caught her to him, kissing her over and ove
r again. Each kiss brought them closer to the bed until they tumbled down onto it, their bodies a mass of tangled, questing limbs.

  His hands slid over her tight body, glorying in the touch, the feel of it. He worked away her thong, drawing it down the length of her. Part of him didn’t even believe this was real. She was like something out of a dream. He slid his hand along her torso, as if trying to commit every curve, every dip to memory.

  When he touched her breast again, he felt the erratic rhythm beneath his fingers.

  “I can feel your heart,” he murmured. Rather than withdraw his hand, he spread his fingers, splaying them over her breast.

  “Good, it’s still there,” she quipped between a shower of small kisses she rained down on him. “I was afraid it had exploded.”

  Her breath along his face was incredibly seductive. Each word tasted better than anything had a right to. The urgency to take her grew and his struggle for control increased in tandem. He fought for it every inch of the way.

  His touch was making her crazy. She could almost feel all the thoughts go spinning out of her head. She’d never felt this out of control before, this disoriented and yet so focused. Every pinprick of attention was centered on the man whose body was making hers sing. She loved the feel of his hard muscles as he loomed over her, the touch of his hand as he caressed rather than claimed.

  He was gentler than she’d thought he’d be. So gentle that he captured her completely, took away all her defenses and made her far more vulnerable than she would have willingly allowed herself to be.

  There was no question in her mind. She was his.

  Just like that.

  It was incredible to her that she trusted him to this extent, this man she hadn’t even known a month ago. She’d trusted him with what amounted to her brother’s future and now, she was trusting him not to hurt her.

  It was a huge burden to place upon a man.

  She doubted that he knew.

  Doubted that she could have even put it into words right now. All she really knew was that he had lit this fire inside her and the flames were licking up and down her very sides, consuming her.

  Anticipation rose within her as Peter kissed every part of her, succeeding in raising her body temperature with each pass of his lips. It took everything she had not to cry out from the sensations that slammed around within her. Even though her bedroom was several doors away from Blue’s, she didn’t want to take a chance on her voice carrying, didn’t want to take a chance of waking up the boy.

  Her mouth sealed to his once again, Raven arched her body against him, silently asking for the final moment of fulfillment. Moist, throbbing and anxious, she didn’t know just how much longer she was going to be able to hold out. She felt herself tottering on the brink for what seemed like eternity.

  She twisted and turned, urging him to take her. To become one with her. Her fingernails dug into the muscles on his back as he kissed the hollow of her throat, raising a symphony of sensations all through her.

  And then he pivoted on his elbows, his eyes holding hers for a moment. She wished she knew what he was thinking, but was afraid to ask, afraid to break apart the moment. She felt his knee between her thighs. Her pulse racing, she opened for him.

  With one deep thrust, he was inside of her. When she looked, she saw that his eyes were closed. Was that because he was imagining his wife? She didn’t know and the uncertainty hurt. But then she quickly set aside the question with its accompanying pain, not wanting to ruin the moment. She needed this. On whatever terms it was given, she needed this.

  They moved together, the tempo growing more and more urgent as the race with only winners was run. And just when she thought that all air was depleted from her lungs, the final crescendo came, sweeping her away.

  She felt his arms tighten around her. It was as if he were trying to absorb her into his very being. And then, ever so slowly, the intensity abated. His hold loosened. His body, taut like a bow only a heartbeat before, seemed to sink into hers. She gasped for breath as her heart hammered out the last strains of Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture.”

  Somewhere in the back of her brain, the words “YES” echoed.

  What the hell had he done?

  The question pounded in his brain, creating no answers. He’d just breached every ethic, betrayed every oath he’d ever sworn, whether it was out loud or just to himself. What had possessed him to do it, to do this?

  The answer was simple.

  She had.

  Even now, with senses returning, he couldn’t deny that she felt wondrously good against him.

  But remorse, laced with chains of guilt, bore down on him, growing heavier by the second. Moving off her, Peter looked down at her face, a myriad of recriminations crowding through his mind.

  She could see it all—the doubt, the regret, the confusion—it was all there in his face as obvious as daylight. Desperately, Raven searched for the tiniest sign that somewhere within all that angst there existed just the smallest sliver of joy. Just a dot to match the joy that surged within her own breast.

  She couldn’t find it.

  “Disappointed?” she finally asked him.

  He stared at her for a second, the single word not computing. “Disappointed?” he echoed in disbelief. “Is that what you think?”

  Given the look on his face, what other conclusion could she come to? Raven thought. “Well, you don’t exactly look like a man who’s just made love with someone. You look like a man who’s just been sentenced to twenty years of hard labor beneath a merciless sun.”

  “I’m not disappointed,” he told her firmly. “At least, not in you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He tried to explain, but he didn’t know where to start. “I’ve broken more rules than I can count.”

  “Maybe you should stop counting, then.” She cupped his cheek with her hand, forcing him to look at her. Very lightly, she brushed her lips against his. “This isn’t about rules, Peter. It’s about kindred souls.”

  The simple kiss created a sweetness within him. He could feel it pouring through his veins. “Kindred souls? You and me?”

  Her eyes smiled up into his before she even answered. “Yes.”

  His soul was black, hers was white. Where did she possibly find any similarities? Unable to resist, he ran the back of his hand along her skin. And felt himself growing excited again.

  “And how do you see that?”

  She hit only the highlights. What she felt went deeper than that. “We’ve both been hurt, both lost people we loved in traumatic accidents.”

  That didn’t begin to make them kindred spirits. “The doctor who assisted at your brother’s surgery lost his wife in a car accident five years ago. I’ve never made love with him. Never even been tempted to.”

  There was a whole host of things that made them kindred spirits, but she didn’t want to belabor the fact. Right now, she just wanted them to enjoy one another. She nodded her approval of his comment.

  “Humor, good. There’s still a chance your soul hasn’t completely dried up. As a matter of fact—” she smiled at him, drawing a tiny circle along his chest with her fingertip “—I think I can pretty much guarantee it.”

  He was being sarcastic. This wasn’t a time for humor, it was a time for introspection. More than that, it was a time to get hold of himself.

  Easing his body away from hers, Peter sat up, the sheet pooling around his lap. “I think maybe I should go.”

  Raven sighed. She couldn’t very well tie him to the bed. “Only if you promise to stop feeling guilty.”

  “I’m not guilty.” Peter pressed his lips together. He’d bitten off the words as he spoke. They both knew he was lying.

  Raven sat up beside him, unmindful of the sheet that fell to her waist. He couldn’t help thinking that she was magnificent in her lack of self-consciousness. His body tightened just looking at her.

  “Then what’s this?” she asked, sliding her finger along the furrow bet
ween his brow. “People who aren’t guilty don’t look as if they’re about to shoot thunder from their brow.”

  He caught her hand in his. “Got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  The smile was slow, almost feline as it curved her mouth. “I try.”

  He was feeling it again. Feeling that almost insurmountable urge to kiss her again, to hold her and to make love with her as if he hadn’t already done so.

  What had come over him? He didn’t understand this change, this need that had taken him prisoner. It was as if he was afraid that the first time had been nothing more than a mere hallucination on his part and he needed to be convinced that it had been real.

  He needed to make love with her again to assure himself that it hadn’t been just a dream.

  He confused the hell out of himself. More than that, this feeling scared him, as well. When he’d been with Lisa, he hadn’t known the kind of risk he was taking, didn’t know that losing someone you cared about could rip the very heart out of your chest. But he knew now. So what was he still doing here, sitting beside Raven? Wanting her?

  So many emotions ran riot through him that he couldn’t begin to sort them out. And each and every one of them began and ended with her.

  He knew he should leave. Instead he found himself tugging Raven onto his lap, kissing the hollow of her neck, feasting on the smooth, creamy skin along her shoulder. He just couldn’t get enough of her. Every kiss gave birth to another until his inclination to resist her vanished.

  As he kissed her mouth, he could feel her smile against his lips. A smile grew within him. He knew there would be no peace for him until he made love with Raven again.

  Peter opened his eyes.

  At first, he thought it was the middle of the night. The bedroom was still cloaked in darkness. There was still time for him to make good his escape. But as he turned, about to get up, he found that the place beside him was empty. The next moment he realized that Raven was standing by the foot of the bed.