How she’d missed this knowing of another. And the rush of love that streamed through the pleasure of being known by him.

Yet even as she slid into the old rhythm, he eased back and just looked at her.

“What? What is it?”

“I just want to look at you.” He unbuttoned her shirt, taking his time about it, skimming the backs of his fingers over the exposed skin. And never taking his eyes off hers. “I want you to look at me. Who we were, who we are. Not so far apart, really.” Still watching her face, he trailed his fingers over the thin cotton of her bra. “But just far enough to be interesting, don’t you think?”

“You want me to think?” She shivered as those lazy fingers brushed her ni**les.

“You’re always thinking.” He drew her up, slipped the shirt away. “Such a busy mind. Just one more thing about you that appeals to me.”

As his hands stroked her back, she linked her arms around his neck. “You’re awfully chatty, Hawke.”

“Just gives you one more thing to think about, doesn’t it?”

He opened the clasp of her bra, then walked his fingers over her shoulders to nudge the straps down.

His lips touched hers, retreated, touched and retreated until her arms locked around him and with a catch of breath her mouth fused to his.

He’d wanted that—that quick flash of need. For him. Because no, he didn’t want her to think, but only to feel what they could bring to each other. Here and now.

His fingers tangled in her hair, then his hands fisted there, drawing her head back so that he could plunder her mouth, her throat. So that he could, for a moment, release the restless animal that prowled inside him.

He could have devoured her in one reckless bite. But that was too fast, that was too easy. Instead he let the heat rage and tormented them both.

He feasted on her, then sampled. His hands rushed over her, then slowed and lingered. When she trembled, so did he.

Her body had always been the purest of pleasures to him. Not just the shape and texture, but its eagerness to enjoy, its openness to the adventure of sex. The thunder of her heart under his lips aroused him as much as the ripe br**sts.

All that lovely smooth skin that shivered under the pass of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth, was only more of a thrill when the woman urged him to take more.

Her hands rushed over him, tugging at his shirt. And the throaty purr of approval as her nails scraped his flesh had his blood burning so he had to fight a vicious war not to hurry.

But he wasn’t going to gulp when he could sip.

Where had this patience come from? He would drive her mad with it. How could his mouth be so fevered and his hands so exquisitely controlled? His muscles quivered under her hands, and she knew him, oh, she knew him well enough to exploit his wants and weaknesses. Yet even as he met her demands, even as he pushed her to the trembling edge, he held back and left her quaking.

“For God’s sake, Jordan.”

“You’re not crazy enough yet.” His breath tore out of his lungs, but he pinned her arms down and continued to fuel the flames with his mouth. “Neither am I.”

There was so much of her, and he needed it all. The sumptuous body, the questing mind, and that part of her heart he’d lost through carelessness. He needed more than her desire and heat. He needed her trust again, and would settle for a glimmer of the affection they’d once shared. He wanted back what he’d given up in order to survive.

He released her hands to embrace her, to hold her tight, tight as they rolled over the bed.

Her skin was slick with sweat, and she was hot and wet and ready. He had only to cup her to fling her over the edge. She sobbed out his name as her body erupted. And he knew when she went limp beneath him she’d given him something he hadn’t known he’d craved.

Her surrender.

“Dana.” He said her name over and over as his lips rushed over her face. When her eyes, so dark and heavy, opened and looked into his, he slid silkily inside her.

It was coming home and finding that what you’d left was only richer, truer, stronger than what had been. Impossibly moved, he linked his fingers with hers, gripped tight, and gave himself.

Accepting, she arched to him, then lifting her lips, found his and joined them. The sweetness of it brought an ache to her throat as pleasure built on top of pleasure. They matched, beat for beat, then thrust for thrust when sweetness became desperation.

They were still joined, lips, hands, loins, when they fell.

IT could be, Dana thought as she lay sprawled over Jordan, that she had just experienced the most intense, spectacular sex of her life.

Not that she intended to mention it. Despite the afterglow and the filmy haze of love, she didn’t have to feed his ego.

But if she were going to mention it, she would have to say her body had never felt more deliciously used. She wouldn’t object to having it used in just that way on a regular basis.

Then again, sex had never been their problem. Wasn’t their problem the fact she didn’t know what their problem had been? Or was. Or might be.

Hell with it.

“You’re thinking again,” Jordan murmured, and ran a finger slowly down her spine. “You think so damn loud. I don’t suppose you could put it off another few minutes, just until I regenerate some brain cells.”

“When they’re dead they’re dead, smart guy.”

“That was a metaphor, a delicate euphemism.”

“Nothing delicate about you, especially your euphemism.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” He tugged on her hair until she lifted her head. “You sure look good, Stretch, all rumpled and had. Are you going to stay?”

She cocked her head. “Am I going to get rumpled and had again?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Then I guess I can stick around for round two.” She rolled aside, sat up and raked her fingers through her hair. And when he reached out, she cocked her brows knowingly.

Until he frowned and trailed his fingers gently over her breast. “Rubbed you a little raw here and there.” He scraped his knuckles over his own chin. “If I’d known you were dropping by, I’d have shaved.”

“I take it ‘dropping by’ is another euphemism.” She needed to keep it light or her heart was going to melt right into his hands. “Besides, it was that unshaven, bohemian look that helped get me into bed with you.”