So frustrating. Too many clothes in the way. His fingertips explored her automatically, mindlessly, craving her. He wanted every millimeter of her beautiful skin exposed, wanted to taste it, feel it, rake it with his gaze and incite that gorgeous blush she could never seem to stop.
The kiss abruptly ended. Caitlyn tore out of his arms, hair in wild disarray from his questing fingers. Chest heaving, she stared at him, eyes limpid and heated.
And then she fled without a word.
* * *
Still mortified over her brazen behavior, Caitlyn curled in a ball on her bed, praying none of the babies would wake up tonight. Praying that Antonio didn’t take her display of wantonness as an invitation to knock on her door. Because she didn’t know if she’d open it. Or never come out.
She’d kissed her sister’s husband. And the guilt was killing her—almost as much as the fact that she wouldn’t stop herself from doing it again.
That kiss had rocked her to the core.
And shattered all her harmless fantasies about what it might be like to kiss Antonio.
The gap between imagination and reality was so wide, she couldn’t see across it. Never would she have imagined her body capable of feeling such raw need. Or such a desire to let Antonio take her further into the descent of sensual pleasure, a place she’d never gone with any man.
The way he made her feel scared her, no doubt. But she scared herself even more. She was afraid of her own impaired judgment. If she gave in to that swirl of dark desire—which had seemed like a very real possibility when Antonio had taken her into his arms—what happened then? Was Antonio gearing up for a marriage proposal? She had no idea how any of this worked. Where his thoughts were on the matter. How you even brought up such important subjects as commitment and love when a man had done nothing more than kiss you.
She needed these questions answered before she let these confusing new feelings brainwash her. The confusion was made even worse by the fact that it was Antonio on the other end of the equation. A different, harder, sexier, more over-the-top Antonio, who wasn’t necessarily the man he’d been. She had no idea how to handle any of this.
And while she’d long ago accepted that she was already half in love with him, he hadn’t professed any such thing to her. Sex was a big deal and until she knew he got that, no more kissing. Otherwise, she might find herself on the wrong side of a broken heart—as she’d always feared.
Along with a guilty conscience she couldn’t shake, it was too much.
So they’d just have to pretend that scorching, mind-altering kiss had never happened.
* * *
By morning, she’d figured out that was impossible. The long, need-soaked night had not been kind.
Today’s goal: get Antonio into a public place so he couldn’t entice her again.
When he entered the breakfast nook, fresh from the shower, her heart did a crazy, erratic dance. It was sinful how perfect he was, how well his shoulders filled out a simple T-shirt, how his sinewy arms made her want to run her fingertips across them. Those arms... They’d held her expertly last night as he’d treated her to the most passionate kiss of her life.
How did the sight of him muddle her insides so much?
“Good morning,” he murmured, his gaze full of knowledge.
“Hi,” she squeaked in return. What did that dark, enigmatic look mean? That he remembered the taste of their kiss and wanted more?
Or was that a classic case of projection since that was what she was thinking? Would he even bring up the kiss, or was he of the same mind that it was better to forget about it?
Quickly, she tore her gaze from his and concentrated on her...oatmeal. At least that was what she vaguely recalled she’d been eating before he’d waltzed in and stolen her ability to use her brain.
“Would you like to go Christmas shopping with me today?” she asked and winced at the desperation in the question. As if she was dying to spend the day in his company instead of the truth—public places were her new best friend.
He pursed his perfect lips, which made it really hard not to stare at them. Oatmeal. She put her head down and shoveled some in her mouth.
“I’d like that,” he said easily. “Will we shop for the children? Or are they too young for gifts?”
“Oh, no. It’s their first Christmas. I planned to shower them with presents and lots of brightly wrapped boxes. You know how kids only like to play with the boxes? I thought it would be fun to have empty boxes as well as toys. Of course, I came up with all of that before you returned, so if it’s too extravagant—”