He bent to her slowly, his eyes holding hers, and then his mouth was on hers.
For one brief flash, she thought of that night with Craig, and her body tensed. But then Roarke whispered her name and she knew that the ugly memory had finally lost its power over her.
She sighed, murmured “Roarke,” and wound her arms around his neck.
“Kiss me,” he said thickly, and when she raised her face blindly to him, he crushed her mouth beneath his.
His tongue swept along the curve of her lips and she whispered her surrender as she opened to him. His tongue thrust into her mouth and the taste of him filled her. Her breath quickened; her bones turned fluid and he groaned and ran his hands down her spine to her hips, then cupped her buttocks and brought her against the hardness of his body.
“Roarke,” she whispered.
He heard her capitulation in the single word.
Quickly, he swept her into his arms and stepped further back into the darkness until they were lost in the trees, and then he lay her down on the soft ground and bent over her.
Her dress fell open under his fingers.
“I can feel the race of your heart, love,” he said, cupping his hand over her breast.
It was true; her heart was galloping like a wild thing racing to be set free. Jennifer stared up into the darkness, seeing only the gleam of Roarke’s eyes, the pale silhouette of his face above her.
In the distance, the beat of the drums had reached a fierce intensity.
It was a night for miracles, Roarke had said and this—his mouth at her nipple, his hands parting her thighs—was the miracle she had waited for.
“Please,” she said, “Roarke, please…”
He got to his feet. Unzipped his fly. Came back to her and knelt between her legs.
“Too fast?” he said in a hoarse whisper.
She shook her head and he groaned, eased his hands under her backside, yanked down her panties and then, God, then he was inside her, deep inside her, moving inside her and she cried out, sobbed his name, wept as he kissed her, and when he felt her muscles starting to tighten around him he rocked forward, hard, rocked into her again and again and they came together just as a shooting star blazed a fiery path across the night sky.
He collapsed against her and held her to him for a long time.
“I’m too heavy for you,” he finally said.
He was, but when he tried to move away, her arms tightened around him.
Moments slid by. Then he sighed.
“Jennifer?”
She could hear the smile in his voice.
“Roarke?” she whispered back.
“I know a much nicer place for this.”
“For what?” she said, batting her lashes.
He grinned. Gave her a quick, delicious kiss. Then they got to their feet, straightened their clothes and, laughing like kids on a day off from school, they ran hand in hand to the house, to his bedroom.
To his bed.
Chapter Eight
Hours later, Jennifer lay in Roarke’s arms, wide awake while he slept. How could she sleep with so much racing through her head?