In return, he unraveled her bun so her hair cascaded down over her shoulders. “You should always wear your hair down,” he said, stroking it. “No, you should wear it up so men can fantasize about tearing out the pins and watching it fall down like a curtain of fire. And picture it spread over the pillows on their beds.”

He took her mouth again, his hands sinking into her hair on either side of her face. She moaned as the touch of his tongue stirred a deep, simmering longing. She clutched at his shoulders to press her aching breasts against him, the delicious contact sending sparks into her belly.

He lifted his head. “We need more space. Let’s go inside.”

“What?” She thought of the three cramped rooms of her apartment with the treadmill in the bedroom and the kitty-litter box in the bathroom. “No! My apartment will remind you too much of the days before you sold your book.”

“Does it have a bed?”

“Only a double.”

“Then we’ll have to get very, very close together.” He smiled in a way that made her insides turn molten with desire.

“Wait here.” He pressed a quick kiss on her lips and sprang out of the car.

Was she really going to do this? She clenched her hands around the straps of her handbag.

He opened her door and held out his hand, his strength evident in the easy way he pulled her to her feet. She wanted to feel that strength over her and inside her. But she halted as he wrapped his arm around her waist and started toward her apartment building’s battered front door. “If we do this,” she said, “I can’t be your physical therapist anymore.”

He sighed. “I have an alternative in mind. We’ll talk about it later.” He propelled them both forward again, and Allie felt a strange sliding sensation of pleasure. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

When she sorted out the right key, he took it from her and fitted it into the lock, sweeping her through the open door. Starting up the stairs, he asked, “How many flights?”

“Four.”

He laughed and climbed faster, almost carrying her along with him. “So this is how you stay in shape. An aerobic workout with every return home.”

His hard thigh grazed her hip as they continued upward and jostled each other in ways that kept raising her temperature. By the time they reached the fifth floor, she felt as though one kiss from him would make her explode.

As her door swung open, he backed her up against the wall inside, kicking the door shut behind them. Then he gave her the full length of his muscular body, driving his thigh between hers so the friction made her moan, and letting her know the level of his arousal by the feel of his erection against her stomach.

“How’s your breathing?” he asked as he twined his fingers with hers and raised her hands up over her head to pin them against the plaster.

The change in position dragged her breasts against him, and she gasped and rocked her hips without conscious thought. “Breathing? What’s that?” she managed to say.

“You may need resuscitating.” He explored her mouth slowly and thoroughly, making her twist and squirm as desire scorched through her, lighting exquisite fires wherever their bodies touched. The ache between her legs grew overpowering, but still he held her in place.

He released her mouth to whisper in her ear, “This is my revenge for having to lie still while you ran your hands over my skin.”

“It wasn’t easy for me, either.” She deliberately ground her pelvis against him, the pressure lighting up her nerves like a skyrocket.

He groaned and pulled back from her. “Where’s the bedroom?”

She almost laughed. There weren’t many possibilities in her apartment. Then she had a moment of concern. “Are you allergic to cats?”

“No. How many do you have?”

“Only one. I’m not a crazy cat lady.” Yet. She led him through the living room by their intertwined hands. “But she sleeps on the bed.”

Sure enough, Pie was curled up on the pillows mounded under the patchwork quilt. The cat lifted her head and blinked at them as they dodged around the treadmill. Allie shook her hand free of Gavin’s grip and deposited her pet outside the room. “I don’t think we want to share this moment with Pie.”

Seeing the tall, sophisticated writer in her poky little bedroom, filled as it was with just a bed, dresser, and treadmill, made her question the wisdom of this encounter. The radiator clanked and groaned, drawing her eye to the rust-stained, peeling paint on its surface. She grimaced.

“Stop,” he said, covering the width of the bedroom in two strides and picking her up in his arms.

She let out a small shriek and grabbed at his shoulders. “Stop what?”

“Comparing my home to yours. It doesn’t matter.” He carried her to the bed and laid her down before stretching out half on, half off her. He spread her hair out over the quilt. The burn of his eyes as he handled the strands, and the gentle tugging on her scalp, sent little thrills of pleasure dancing through her.

She lifted her hand to trace over his lips and along his jaw. “It doesn’t matter right now,” she said, “but it will.”

“Stop,” he said again. He skimmed his hand over her shoulder until he reached the swell of her breast, his fingers spreading to explore the contours until he brought them in to roll her tight nipple through the silk and lace covering it.

It was like having an electric shock except the sensation was thrilling. She pushed into his hand. “Gavin, yes!”

He pinched harder this time, so her hips lifted as the electricity seared from her breasts to the hollow deep inside her.

She didn’t want a slow seduction. Lifting her head, she kissed him with all the frustrated longing in her body as she ripped the buttons of his shirt out of their buttonholes.

He laughed. The husky sound sent more heat searing through her as he went to work on the buttons of her blouse, giving her a wolfish grin when he discovered the front clasp of her bra and flicked it open. Brushing aside the black lace, he cupped her bared breasts and circled the pads of his thumbs over them.

“Oh my God, yes,” she murmured as his touch made her writhe. She pulled open his shirt to return the favor, running her palms over the springy dark hair she’d been hungering to touch for days, following the line of it over the rippled muscles of his abs down to his belt buckle.