Late Last Night (River Bend) by Lilian Darcy

this,” she told him shakily, after a few moments.
    “You haven’t.” As if to prove his point, he kissed her harder and deeper, taking her into his arms and pressing his body against hers. She sank against him and surrendered to the moment. To the way he smelled, to the strength of him, to her own dizzy happiness.
    It was a gorgeous, luxurious, wonderful kiss, and he was good at it, and he knew it.
    Somehow, she hadn’t expected that.
    Hadn’t expected him to be so confident and… and so talented. He made her melt so fast, he knew exactly what he was doing and he knew how it made her feel and beneath the wonderfulness of it, it scared her. She really was so out of practice. Could she do this?
    She wanted him to be… well… rusty about it like she was, but he wasn’t, and it definitely scared her.
    He buried his face in her neck, and she arched back and gasped and he stretched his hands around her ribs, just under her breasts so that she could feel their weight pressing on him, and she knew her hardened nipples must be jutting right at him, too. She ached for his hands on the almost painful peaked buds. Or his mouth.
    Not here. Not in the street, even though it was quiet. But somewhere. His place. How could she say that without sounding too brash and brazen. Her shyness surged, and she pulled her body away from him.
    He gave a soft laugh. “You haven’t forgotten anything, Kate.”
    “You’re pretty good at reminding me.”
    “Can we go somewhere better than this?”
    “My place? It would be warm, quiet.”
    “I’d like that.”
    “Get in the truck. Follow me there. That okay?”
    “I—I think so.”
    “You only think?” He looked down at her, traced the line of her lower lip with his thumb.
    “No, I think I know, but I’m not sure.”
    He laughed. “Crazy girl.”
    “A little, yes.”
    “I think I like that,” he said.
    “You only think?” she mimicked.
    “No, I am absolutely, completely sure that I like it.”
    “Okay, I’ll get in the truck and follow you.”
    As long as I’m not too shaky to drive.
    He walked her to the pickup she’d left parked around the corner outside Grey’s Saloon. His own car was just down the street. “Wait here and I’ll catch up to you. Don’t want you getting lost in the dark…”
    So she waited and followed, and his tail lights guided her out of town on the ten-minute drive. The stars were out, and the moon, and she could see the bluish light of it shining on the lingering snow on Copper Mountain.
    As soon as he’d parked in front of his house, he came and opened the pickup door for her, his warm body looming above her the way it had when he’d stopped her on the highway two months ago. She slid out and up, into his waiting arms and they kissed again right there, standing between the opened door and the vehicle, soft and sweet and deep and slow, as if they both had all the time in the world.
    He slid his hips softly against hers and she could feel how aroused he was, but there was no impatience. He touched her, tracing the curve of her backside with soft palms, cupping her breasts, bracketing her hips.
    She thought about his bedroom, or his couch, or even his kitchen counter-top if things got really intense, and she felt scared and… rusty… again. What was it like when it was good? Had she ever known? She couldn’t remember.
    “I really have forgotten how to do this,” she told him. His shirt felt warm and just a little crisp beneath the flat of her hand. She felt the solid wall of his chest and wanted to touch him all over, explore all the shapes of him, the way he was doing to her.
    “You really haven’t.”
    “No?”
    “You need me to convince you?” he growled, so low that she felt the words more than heard them. Felt their vibration in his chest.
    “Yes. I think so.”
    Turned out she’d misunderstood what he meant.
    “You’ve set me a challenge, Miz MacCreadie.” Through her skirt, he cupped his hand against the steamy warmth of