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His cock seemed to thicken with every step she took. He mounded up the bedcovers around his waist so she wouldn’t notice the telltale bulge and run. Not before he kissed her.

She returned to her perch on the edge of his bed, eyes roaming his naked chest in a charming combination of alarm and something resembling hunger. “Oh, dear. Your bedclothes.”

“What about them?”

She swallowed visibly. “They’ve fallen.” She reached for them with both hands, evidently intending to yank them up.

Better she see his chest than what his sheets concealed.

He caught her wrists. “Too hot. I likely have a fever, due to my injury.” He had a fever, all right. It just had nothing to do with his head injury. “Feel for yourself,” he said, his voice husky.

Taking one of her hands, he unfurled her fingers and placed her palm flat on his chest.

“You are quite warm,” she said, breathless. Her fingers pressed into his skin in tiny pulses, almost kneading, and he had to fight the urge to drag her into his arms and plunder her sweet mouth.

“Come closer.”

She inched further onto the bed.

She looked so sweet, so intent on pleasing him, he almost felt guilty. He silenced his conscience, telling himself he didn’t intend to ravish her. He simply wanted—needed—to kiss her. Thoroughly.

“Closer.”

“I’m right beside you.” She loosed a nervous laugh and moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, drawing his gaze to her mouth like a moth to a flame.

“I can’t kiss you from here.”

“Oh.” She leaned forward, not stopping till her face was inches from his. Her warm breath fanned his lips. “Better?”

In answer, he cradled her head, spearing his fingers into her hair, and brought his mouth slowly, inexorably, to hers.

At the touch of their lips, molten heat poured through his veins. Somehow he kept the contact light, brushing her mouth with feather-soft kisses again and again until her lips grew damp and pliant, her breaths shallow and choppy.

His slow seduction cost him. His body shook with the effort it took to reign in his own pent-up desire for her.

God, but her lips were sweet. He nipped and sucked and teased the corners of her mouth until, finally, a small mew escaped her and she parted her lips, inviting him in. With a low groan, his tongue eased into her damp warmth. She tasted like mint tea and sugar and Kitty.

Another little whimper of pleasure sounded in her throat, hammering a crack into the wall of his restraint. He moaned, tangling one hand in her hair and splaying his other hand on the small of her back to urge her closer.

In a rustle of skirts and sheets, she half leaned, half fell toward him.

Her hand, still pressed against his chest, kneaded his flesh in the rhythm of a purring cat.

Her fingernails scored his skin, each tiny stab shooting lightning bolts of pleasure straight to his groin.

His hips rocked as nature and lust collided.

Sweet Jesus . Cold sweat beaded on his brow, but he stilled his riotous flesh.

“Touch me,” he commanded in a hoarse whisper.

Her other hand crept up to explore the hollow of his neck, then moved higher, tracing his Adam’s apple, and toying with the hairs at the back of his neck.

A helpless shudder racked his body. “Kitty,” he rasped against her lips. Unable to stop himself, he wrapped one arm around her slender waist, and pulled her fully against him.

She responded with a sweet, innocent ardor, twining her arms around his neck, and clinging to him.

Though she still wore her chemise, she’d removed her wired corset at some point during the day, and the weight of her plump breasts taunted him through the thin material of her gown. Her small, hard nipples grazing his flesh acted like fodder to the inferno of need raging inside him.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, twisting it around his wrist. Using gentle force, he tugged her head backward and deepened the kiss.

His tongue plunged into her mouth, again and again, mimicking the intimate joining he longed for.

He wanted her. So. Badly. His swollen cock literally ached to be inside her.

He must be mad to torture himself like this, indulging in the taste and feel of her, here in his bed, in the middle of the night, his body half naked, and fully, desperately aroused.

Calling on all his will, he broke off the kiss. He had to, now, while he still could.

Kitty stared up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “No, Zeke. Don’t pull away again. Not tonight,” she whispered, and threaded her fingers into his hair, tugging his mouth back to hers.

Just like that, he lost the battle with himself.

His lips sealed over hers, and he twisted with her in his arms. He fell on her, crushing her into pillows and mattress.

He pulled his mouth from hers long enough to gaze down at her face, framed with her lustrous waves of inky black hair. “So beautiful,” he whispered.

She gazed back at him with passion-glazed eyes, shifting beneath him ’til the base of his cock settled snugly between her legs.

He gasped lung-fulls of air and his hips pressed helplessly into hers. “You make me…crazy. Make me…want things…I shouldn’t.”

He drew one shaking hand to trace her cheek, lowering his forehead to hers. “Kitty, do you know what torture this is? You, here, at my bedside, with me wanting you more than the air I breath?”

“Should I go?” she asked softly.

God, no . Shaking his head, he drew a ragged breath and traced circles around her lips, coaxing them apart.

Her slender arms snaked around his waist, her silky fingers tracing the muscles of his back, cruising lower, to the band of his drawers.

“Mary, mother of God,” he muttered as his body shuddered with need.

Without making a conscious volition to do so, his knee wedged her thighs apart beneath all the layers of fabric and sheets.

He swiveled his hips, aligning them with hers, not stopping till the tip of his cock pressed into her hot center.

He closed his eyes and ground his teeth.

It would be so easy. Just move the sheets. Pull up her skirts. Spread her thighs. They would be creamy white and silky smooth and would feel so good locked around his waist.

No. He pushed the image from his mind. He couldn’t take her like this, no matter how badly he desired her. Unless…

He grasped the desperate thread of hope like a lifeline.

“Tell me why you’re here, Kitty,” he demanded in a harsh whisper.