She belonged in the house. Here with him. The sight and sound of her, the scent of her completed him. He had to clear his throat of the unexpected lump clogging it so he could speak. “There’s fruit on the tray there if you’re thirsty or hungry. It was hot so I brought ice in the small insulated bucket.”

Maggie sat up, pushed at the hair tumbling around her face. “You’re always taking care of me, Brandt. Thank you, it was very thoughtful of you.” She was thirsty and hot, her throat parched.

Brandt watched as she reached a slender, bare arm through the mosquito netting and lifted a piece of mango to her lips. She tilted her head slightly, exposing the long column of her throat, smooth and vulnerable, to him. Her lips parted slightly, and he caught a glimpse of her small teeth, her tongue, before she took the fruit into her mouth. His entire body clenched when she sucked the juice from her fingers. Her tongue darted out to catch the last drop of juice on her lower lip. His hand dropped to his thick, hard arousal pulsing with hunger and urgent demand. A single sound escaped him.

Maggie’s head went up. “Do you want to share with me?”

Her voice sent jackhammers tripping in his head. He thought he would burst from his skin. “Look at me, Maggie,” he commanded gruffly.

“You’re in the shadows. I can’t see you.”

“Yes, you can. Use your eyesight. Look at me and tell me if you want me sharing with you.” There was a moody, edgy feel to his voice, one that sent a shiver of awareness down her spine.

She pushed the mosquito netting aside and leaned forward, picking up another piece of mango as she did so. It took a moment to make him out, as still as he was in the chair. He seemed to become part of whatever his background was, a highly developed camouflage. Maggie could see him then, his powerful body draped on the chair. Entirely naked. Starkly aroused. He made no attempt to hide the pulsing staff thrusting upward from between his legs. He sat there, motionless, his brooding gaze on her, simply awaiting her decision.

Beneath the thin tank top her breasts ached tenderly. A trickle of hot liquid dampened the sheets. He stole her breath. Just looking at him, so hungry for her, robbed her of air. Deliberately she licked at the fruit, knowing his eyes were on her. She sucked the piece into her mouth, followed it with her fingers. Maggie took her time. There was no need to hurry; she could see his reaction as she sucked the juice from her hand. His nails dug into the arm of the chair and his body jerked.

She heard his swift intake of breath as she slowly caught the hem of her tank top and pulled it over her head to bare her breasts for him. “I definitely want you sharing with me, Brandt,” she invited.

Some of the tension left his body but he remained across the room from her. Maggie’s body tightened even more in anticipation. He liked looking at her—she could feel him drinking her in, devouring her with his heated gaze. Deliberately she leaned back on the bed to hook her drawstring bottoms with her thumbs. Carefully she slid the material down the curve of her hip, shimmying a little as she pushed the pajamas from her legs, discarding them beside the bed in an unwanted little heap.

Maggie reached for another piece of fruit, but he was there before her, picking up the orange pulp and bringing it to her mouth. He squeezed so the juice ran over his fingers and across his palm. Maggie took a bite, watched him pop the rest into his own mouth, and he offered her his hand. His knee wedged between her thighs, leaving her open, damp, pulsing for him.

Maggie caught his thick wrist and brought his fingers to her mouth. Her tongue slid over his skin, probing, teasing, exploring the contours of his hand while she lapped up the juice. All the time she was very aware of his body, silky hot, so close to hers.

The sensation of her tongue lapping so delicately over his fingers, tracing the crease in his palm, nearly made him explode. The tips of her breasts skimmed his arm, flashed fire along his skin. The junction between her legs, as he nudged closer, was fiery hot, damp, giving off the rich scent of her calling to him. The hammering in his head became a roar. He was thick and hard, but her tongue was increasing his measurements beyond anything he’d ever experienced. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if her hot mouth pulled as strongly at another portion of his anatomy.

Brandt curled his hand around the nape of her neck and tilted her head back, fastening his mouth to hers. Heat exploded inside of her. Erupted into a hot molasses that spread through her body until she was burning up inside. His mouth fed on hers, his tongue dueling, tangling, stroking while his hands explored her satin-soft body. Maggie couldn’t breathe, yet he was providing her air. She couldn’t think, her mind in a chaos of pleasure, as he guided her through the whirling sensations, anchoring her to him with his commanding mouth and strong hands.

His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs gliding over her nipples to bring them to two taut peaks. “I need a piece of mango,” he whispered into her open mouth.

Brandt didn’t stop kissing her, eating at her mouth while she bent to get the fruit. His mouth was hot and masculine and she was lost in his passion. He didn’t take the mango from her. “Rub it on your nipples for me,” he instructed, pulling back to look down at her full breasts cupped in his palms.

A small explosion went off in her deepest most feminine core, and moist heat seeped and beckoned to him at his provocative words. She could feel ripples of fire deep within her. His gaze was burning, possessive, his face hard and edgy with need. Maggie nibbled at the fruit so that juice ran down the comer of her mouth. Brandt leaned forward and caught the drops with his tongue, tracing her lower lip until she opened her mouth for him again. Her body clenched in reaction.