Harlequin - Jennifer Greene, Hot Touch [urban books to read txt] 📗

and emotionally. Her soul as bared as his.

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Her risks as great as his.

“Take me,” she whispered. “Higher. Hotter. Every which way, my love.”

“No,” he whispered. “You take me. All the way.”

Needs spiraled the more she clung to him. Tension built the more he teased and stroked. She twisted in the water, claiming him. He swirled her beneath him, claiming her. The doorbell rang. The dogs barked.

Her cell phone beeped. He sank under the water once, stealing a kiss that way…but by then their playfulness had turned serious. Heart serious. Future serious.

For so long, Phoebe had felt unsure of herself. Not as a person. Not as a worker. But as a woman.

Fox didn’t give her that confidence back. But for him, she found that steel-strong well inside of the woman she wanted to be. The woman she could be. With a man who challenged her to reach for it all.

When it was over, he sank back against the tile, gasping, pulling her with him, both semi-floating in the warm water until they caught their breath. His cheek nuzzled her cheek. “Are you going to kill me if I tell you you’re the most beautiful woman alive?”

“No.”

“What if I told you you’re the brightest, the most creative, the most generous and wonderful woman in the universe?”

“I guess I’ll survive if you told me that, too.” She sighed, knowing where his teasing was leading up to, because she knew him so well. “Go ahead. It’s okay. You can say it.”

“I don’t want to tick you off. Especially right before I discuss something serious with you.”

“You won’t tick me off.”

And out it came. “You’re the sexiest woman in the galaxy, red. You’re my dream of a mate. You make me proud to be a man, because of how you respond to me. With me.”

“All right,” she said warningly. “Now you’ve done it—”

When she reached for him, determined to mete out the punishment he deserved—and earned—he stopped her. “Wait,wait. I really do need to ask you something serious first. And before that, there’s something I have to see.”

“What?”

He insisted they get out of the water, and then he chased her upstairs. His excuse was that they were both more wrinkled than prunes and needed to get out of the water, but she figured out pretty quickly that he’d built up a humorous curiosity about her bedroom.

In the upstairs bathroom, they toweled off and then sprinted for her bed, diving under her down comforter until they warmed up again. Then he leaned back against the pillows, pulling her onto his chest, while he looked around.

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“That’s what I couldn’t wait to find out. What color your bedroom would be, because of all the colors you used downstairs.” He shook his head in surprise.

“I didn’t have a lot of money to decorate when I moved here. And what money I did have, I needed to use on the downstairs where clients could see—”

“And that’s why you chose white up here?”

She looked around at the familiar furnishings—the down comforter and rug, the painted dresser and giant wicker rocker and antique bench. “I didn’t want virgin white,” she said honestly. “Or bridal white.

But when I came here, I kind of wanted blank-slate white. Because that’s what I was trying to do when I moved here. Start over. Figure out who I was all over again. Start with a blank slate, if I could.”

He scooched down, so they were face-to-face on the same pillow. “Would you consider putting a marriage date down on that slate, red?”

Her heart stopped, then came damn close to bursting.

“Don’t say no,” he insisted. “Hear me out. I want to build that home for us. For us—and for any kids we might want to add along the way. I know I’m unemployed and don’t look like such a great bet right now.

But I’ve got a good slug of savings put away. And I’ll start some real-work teaching next fall.”

Damn the man, but if he didn’t force her to kiss him again. Softly. On the temple and cheek and chin.

She had to kiss him. Softly. On the temple and cheek. “I’m glad,” she whispered.

“You knew I’d go back to teaching.”

“I know you adore kids. But I didn’t know if you’d realized you were healing.”

“I wasn’t. Until I met you. You healed me, Phoebe. But it scared the hell out of me when I realized you were hurting, too. And I had no idea how to be the healer for you.”

“Fox.”

“What?”

“Love’s what heals.” Since she’d kissed his one cheek, she had to kiss the other. Beneath the covers, he was starting to perk up again. Oh, this man was going to be trouble for a long, long time. “Love’s what’s always going to heal,” she whispered.

“Does that mean—”

“It means, yes, I love you. From my heart. With my heart.”

“And does it mean—”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

He stopped asking questions. That seemed to cover it all.

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HOT TO THE TOUCH by Jennifer Greene, Silhouette Desire TALKING ABOUT SEX…by Vicki Lewis