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across her flesh, from her neck to her chest, past her waist. He moved lower and slower, making the most of every quivering inch of her.
    He let his nose drift over her belly, allowing it to linger at her navel, then lower. He scented her thighs, sought the heated skin behind her knees. Sliding lower still, he encircled her ankles with his steely fingers and opened her legs. Keeping his gaze centered on her juicy slit he drew her big toe into his mouth and suckled and licked. The sensation was incredible and brought on another gush of cream. He continued the swirling action of his tongue until her back arched and her slit opened wider to receive...nothing. No finger pressed into her, no tongue eased along her outer lips. She thrashed on the bed and nearly wakened, but he moved his palm along her calf and pulled her back into the deliciously sensual dream.
    One hand slid along behind her knee while his other smoothed his organ. She watched his hand slide along its length, squeezing the bulbous head. A slick tear appeared at the eye and her mouth watered with wonder at how he’d taste. His hand slid ever closer to her weeping center, her hips widened, she raised her mons in a seeking motion only a machine could ignore. Still he didn’t touch, didn’t bring relief.
    She felt his chest hair tickle the soft skin of her calves, his chin rasp against her pubis as he dipped close, without touching.
    Never touching . . . .
    She sought relief in her tangled sheets, pulling the silk between her legs, rubbing it against her clit. Her own hand was a poor substitute for his.
    When she woke, heated and unsatisfied, she pulled out the box of batteries and loaded them into her new best friend.
    Afterward, still empty and unclaimed, she climbed out of bed determined to make Tyce put out the fire he started.
    A spurt of hot anger might be just the thing to push him over the edge. She was burning up and so was he. There were many delectable things she’d like to do with the energy that sizzled its way to her center.
    They could enjoy the next few weeks, work to get the cars ready , and play together in bed. Their differences could be put aside, old hurts eased, and their itch for each other scratched. Maybe they could even be friends when it was over.
    That afternoon, Lisa gathered her nerve and slipped into her new string bikini, another of the supplies she ’d bought. The ruby colored triangles of material did little to hide her breasts and mound. The thong backside was the worst, though. She’d never worn anything so blatant in her life.
    Tying the last string on her hip, she reached for her robe and covered herself. The terry warmed her instantly, and gave her a false sense of security.
    Frustrated with her own cowardice, she dropped the robe and wrapped a sheer sarong around her hips. The gathers of material across her belly and thighs provided more mystery than coverage, but she felt less exposed.
    Anyone who saw her would be able to read her thoughts; she realized when she looked in the mirror. Eyes alight, rosy swatches of color across her cheeks, lips moist, and nipples beaded, she was a woman on a mission.
    She would not be denied.
    She straightened her shoulders, slicked lip gloss across her mouth, and picked up her novel, a poor camouflage.
    Halfway out the door, she felt self-conscious enough to dash back inside and pick up her robe. She carried it, refusing to give in to the desire to cover up.
    The cook looked goggle-eyed at her, but didn’t speak as she strode out of the kitchen. Jason’s reaction gave her a little more confidence. As she approached, he bobbed his head and blushed crimson, trying not to be obvious in his interest.
    She cruised by him with a nod.
    Tyce was on the phone but stopped talking when he caught sight of her. The telltale sidestep behind the car cheered her enormously. He reacted so quickly, so completely, she knew he wouldn’t make her wait much longer.
    She stopped on her way past and tapped him