Her chest heaved, her breath stuttered in and out of her lungs.
The tension in the room stretched like taffy between them, but it was nothing so sweet. Tracy licked her suddenly dry lips.
And Dan’s gaze shifted from her face to focus on her mouth.
Heat skittered up her spine. Tracy’s glance darted to the right, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror over her dresser.
We need roses in our cheeks and highlights in our hair.
Her face was flushed from her race, and it had disheveled the wispy ends of her new haircut. The way her breasts were moving against the T-shirt she wore-tight, another item borrowed from Bailey-made her look like a woman who was less angry than…wanting.
From somewhere, a thought burst in her brain. She looked like a woman ready for sex.
Her gaze jumped back to Dan. There was a new tightness across his cheekbones, a new kind of watchfulness in his eyes.
A new quality to the tension in the room.
Who needs a man? What are they good for?
All at once, Tracy remembered.
He took a measured step into the room. Another.
She clutched one corner of the four-poster bed, her knuckles going white. “What do you think you’re doing?”
His hands went to the hem of his polo shirt and in one swift movement, he stripped it off.
Definitely working out. His shoulders were smooth, round hills of muscles that led to his tan chest that tapered to the flat skin of his belly. Tracy swallowed as his hands pulled at the buttons on his 501s.
Don’t retreat, she told herself. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
“I don’t know what you think is going to happen here.”
“You know exactly what I think is going to happen.” The dark, hard thread in his voice sent a hot shiver down her back. “Take off your clothes, Tracy.”
In broad daylight? The neighbors, their son-
But he was away at college and she wasn’t a mother first and foremost any longer. She was…
“Take them off, Trace.”
At Dan’s command, a brand-new, sexual flame inside her leaped. The heat running down her spine spread, burning every inch of her skin, making it feel tight and too small for what she was trying to hold inside.
Excitement. Arousal.
He was naked now. This man-this stranger in her bedroom-drew closer, his penis jutting toward her with the same aggressive attitude she could see on his face and hear in his voice. Her knees went rubbery again.
Reaching out, he caught the end of her T-shirt in his fist. Then he yanked her close to his nakedness, his other hand biting into the skin at her waist as he jerked her shirt over her head.
“I want you.”
His eyes widened.
She realized the words were hers.
“Then unhook your bra. I want to see your breasts.”
Her fingers trembled as they found the hooks behind her back. Dan’s gaze didn’t move off her face until her bra dropped to the Oriental carpet with an almost silent plop. Then he palmed her shoulders with his hands, squeezing a moment before slowly moving them down her torso to cover her breasts.
Making a cup of his hands, he plumped them for his inspection.
Between her legs she felt swollen, aching, empty.
His thumbs rasped across her nipples and she gasped. Her eyes closed.
“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice harsh.
Her lashes flew open and instinct made her try to move back. His hands tightened their hold on her breasts.
“You’re not going anywhere. You’re not looking at anything but me. You will see me. Know me.” His nostrils flared. “Fuck me.”
Tracy’s heart slammed against her breastbone. He’d never said that word to her before. Never called what they did together a four-letter word.
It excited her, she realized. Maybe she’d found someone else to be instead of Mother! Someone sexual. Excited. Exciting.
Dan rubbed her nipples again. “Take off your pants.”
He didn’t stop touching her breasts as she obeyed. Once nude, she had a moment of doubt. The divorce diet had turned her bony in some areas and saggy in others.
But he was focused on her mouth again, and he leaned over to kiss her, the first thrust of his tongue as strong and sure as she’d always thought her marriage. He shifted his hands to her hips and drew her flush against his body. His chest hair abraded her nipples, his erection pressed hard against her belly.
He still desired her.
His hands cupped her bottom and the angle of his head changed to take her mouth deeper. Heat flashed over her again and that swollen place between her legs throbbed in time with her pumping heart. Oh God.
Her panting breaths rubbed her nipples against his chest and his smooth penis still kissed her abdomen. But it wasn’t enough.
Not enough closeness.
Not enough sensation.
She pushed closer, and his leg slid between hers. His tongue pushed deep as his knee lifted, pressed steadily against the empty place between her thighs. Groaning, she ground herself against it, without regard for daylight or heartbreak or maturity. Did middle-aged women desire like this?
“Do me,” she whispered against his lips, astonished at the raunchiness of her words. A little pleased. She lifted her mouth. “Do me now.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then get on the bed.”
Out of a thousand years’ habit, she half turned to pull back the covers.
“I didn’t tell you to do anything but get on the bed.”
Tracy froze, then glanced over her shoulder at him. “But…” But this was a stranger in her bedroom and he looked determined to have his way.
She slowly climbed onto the bed, letting him have a full-on view of her butt, even as she thought, Who is this woman? She could see her in the dresser mirror, blond hair wild, color high on her cheeks, mouth and nipples the same red. A sexual being. A start to a new woman.
“Hurry up.” Dan put his big hand on the curve of her waist, flipping her to her back and then coming between her legs. “I want to get inside of you.”
His knees pushed her legs wide. His penis took aim, headed in.
“Wait.” Tracy placed her palm on his chest, keeping him at bay. “Protection.”
The man blinked. “What? Protection?”
“Condoms. I don’t know where you’ve been sleeping.”
His jaw tensed. “Tracy-”
“No condom, no come.” She was pretty pleased with the pithy phrase, even though her blood was screaming to get on with it, for him to get on her.
“Where the hell do you expect me-?”
“My son’s bathroom.” At least he wasn’t carrying them in his pockets. Or at least he pretended he wasn’t. “Right across the hall.”
He didn’t say he knew where Harry’s bathroom was. He didn’t protest about the protection any longer. Instead he vaulted off the bed and then returned in a flash, foil packets spread like a poker hand in his fingers.
“Feeling lucky?” she asked.
“No. But I feel like screwing.” His head lowered. His body lowered. His latex-covered erection felt like heaven against her wetness. “I feel like screwing you.”
They didn’t use each other’s names.
They didn’t say much of anything.
Instead, palm to palm, fingers gripping hard, they tumbled on the bed, trembled in each other’s arms, worked hard for release.
Tracy-still not recognizing herself or her lust-turned her head and bit the pillow to keep from screaming when she came.
Dan bit her shoulder as he finished.
Then they were on their backs, side-by-side, not touching. Separate again.
A familiar position.
When he turned to his side to look at her, she kept her gaze on the ceiling.
“We haven’t-”
“No.” They hadn’t fixed anything.
“I won’t apologize.”
“Don’t.” Amazingly, she’d wanted it as much as he.