Ignoring her protest, he slid one finger between her legs from behind, sending a tendril of arousal spiraling through her. “Stop,” she gasped as he grazed his fingertip over her most sensitive spot. There was nothing she could do to prevent him from feeling the liquid heat of her reaction.

“You’re saying no, but I’m getting another message here,” he said, slipping his finger partway inside her.

Her body betrayed her utterly as her nipples hardened against the solid planes of his chest.

He whispered against the whorls of her ear, “Let me give you just one little orgasm. Think of it as a prebreakfast treat.”

His finger was doing wicked things against and inside her, and she felt the tightening deep within. She nodded against his chest, her cheek rasping against the dapple of hair there. “One . . . little . . . orgasm.”

He shifted her farther up his body and spread her legs open so they lay on either side of his. Then he used his hand to drive her to the crest and over the edge of release as he told her how much he loved to make her come.

As she lay gasping, her body draped over his like a blanket, he sucked her liquid off his fingers. “More delicious than the finest brandy,” he said, licking his lips.

“This time of day it should be orange juice,” she said.

His fingers found her buttock with a light squeeze. “I’m trying to be seductive, and you talk about Tropicana.”

“Hey, no bruising the fruit.” She rolled off him to sprawl on her back. “You keep turning my bones to jelly, so I can’t move.”

“That’s my nefarious plan. If you can’t move, then I can do this.” He rolled over and sucked her nipple into his mouth.

She’d thought her body was entirely wrung out, but the heat of Gavin’s mouth made her arch up into him as electric sparks showered through her.

He lifted his head to grin down at her. “You moved.”

“Pure involuntary reflex.”

“What would happen if I kissed you down—”

As he began to scoot lower, Allie twined her fingers in his hair and tugged upward. “Have mercy.”

He kissed her belly button. “Begging now. That’s what I like to hear.”

“Go take a shower and leave me alone to recover.”

He lay propped on his elbow, looking down at her. “The shower is plenty big enough for both of us. In fact, we could invite several friends and still fit in it.”

“A shower orgy?” Allie shook her head. “Nope, solo showers only today. I remember what happened the last time we got wet together.”

“Ah, you’re always wet when we’re together.” His eyes gleamed with a wicked light, but he gently pulled the sheet over her and rolled out of bed.

She wasn’t so wiped out that she couldn’t enjoy every stride he took across the room, the muscles in his tight butt flexing, his long thighs thick with sinew, and the back she knew so well rippling as he turned his head to catch her watching him. He grinned and kept walking.

Pie climbed onto her stomach and sat down to blink at her. Allie had a moment of disorientation at the sight of her gray rescue cat in the midst of the luxurious furnishings of Gavin’s bedroom, with its multimillion-dollar view. Neither she nor the cat belonged here, yet they were both making themselves at home. “We shouldn’t get too comfortable,” Allie warned Pie. “Fairy tales never last.”

After breakfast in another sun-drenched room that overlooked the beach, Allie dragged Gavin into the office. As had happened in the city, a second desk had been set up for her, and she settled into the chair with a sigh of relief. When she had a desk to sit at, she knew where she fit into Gavin’s world.

He prowled around the room, picking up and setting down various objects. She swiveled her chair around. “Either sit down or find another room to pace in,” she said. “You’re making me twitchy.”

He looked up from the small glass display case he was holding. “I was considering writing in longhand again today.”

“Does that actually help?”

He showed her the case, which held a single black pen. “Stephen King wrote an entire book with this Waterman fountain pen. He says it’s the world’s finest word processor.”

The case had a small handwritten card displayed in it. Allie peered at the writing.

To Gavin. In the event of emergency, break glass. Best, Steve

“Stephen King gave his special pen to you?”

“We were at an awards ceremony together and got to talking about writer’s block. Back then, I couldn’t even imagine it. He warned me that it gets us all eventually.” Gavin’s lips twisted. “Afterward, he sent me this as a talisman to ward it off.”

Allie ran her finger along the case. “I’m surprised you haven’t used it already.”

“I was afraid it wouldn’t work, and then I would have exhausted my last resort.” He returned the pen to the shelf beside his desk and sat down, eyeing his computer as though it were a coiled rattlesnake.

Allie stood up. “How about I give you a nice shoulder rub? But it’s not physical therapy, just to be clear.”

His smile mixed gratitude with seduction. “I prefer to think of it as a sensuous massage from one lover to another.”

“Whatever works for you.” But his words stroked over her skin as she put her hands on his shoulders. He was wearing one of his seemingly endless supply of black cashmere sweaters over a pair of jeans, a look she particularly liked on him. Not to mention that the feel of his powerful muscles under the soft, expensive fabric was a treat all by itself.

As she kneaded his neck, she gave herself permission to evaluate his condition from a PT point of view. It was significantly improved from her first encounter with him. His body was coming back into balance, and the knots in his muscles were easier to work out. He should have come to Southampton sooner, since it was clearly good for him.

He moaned appreciatively as she worked, flinching only once when she hit an especially tender spot. After ten minutes, she switched to stroking him softly and bent to plant a kiss on his nape. “Now you should be relaxed enough to face the computer.”

He reached back to catch one of her hands in his, bringing it around to press his lips into her palm. “Thank you,” he said. There was such a freight of emotions in those two words. Gratitude, fear, resignation, and maybe, she thought, an acknowledgment that her presence helped him.