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safe right now, are you, Caro?”
    “Alan—” An awful lot of moorings were shifting all at once.
    “I think—” his lips dipped to her throat “—it might have been a mistake ever to let you feel safe, love. You’re not, you know. We’re alone here. There’s no one anywhere around for miles. And you’d better understand right now that I’ve wanted to touch you this way for so long…”
    His head ducked down again, at the same time as his hand wandered from her abdomen to her thighs. Through her thin white cords, she could feel the heat of his palm, the deliberate sensual pressure. Desire trickled through her bloodstream, unexpected, deliciously enticing. Wanting had never been so easy to feel, to express, to share.
    His palms cupped her breasts together. His tongue lashed at their tips until the nipples were red and hot. His tongue was so soft that the graze of beard surrounding his mouth seemed impossibly rough, sensuously rough.
    He rubbed his cheek against her vulnerable flesh, first against satin-soft breasts and then against the smoothness of her stomach. Air hissed from her lungs. Adrenaline—or maybe melted butter—raced through her veins. Danger licked through her senses…but so did a languid, sultry feeling of pure feminine power. The Alan-would-nevers had changed in her mind to the very sure knowledge that she could well be taken on the floor of a barn, by a man she suddenly realized she didn’t know at all. More terrifying than that, she wasn’t sure she cared!
    Her knees, locked together, were gently, firmly separated when his hand slipped between them. He stroked the inside of her thigh, where she’d always been the most vulnerable, where Alan couldn’t possibly know she’d always been the most vulnerable. She twisted around him, unsure whether she was trying to press closer to him or stop his hands from their marauding forays. It didn’t stop him. His mouth molded itself fiercely to hers at the same time his palm made a shelf at the juncture of her thighs, and he rubbed until she arched for the feel of his hand, abandon rippling through her like a storm.
    Gradually, slowly, Alan decreased the pressure, gently gliding his hand back to her thigh, her hip, around to the soft flesh of her stomach. As he would gentle a wild creature, he gentled the woman breathing so hoarsely beneath him.
    He kissed each white breast one last time, then reclasped her bra and pulled down the sweater and kissed her again, on her throat, her cheek, her closed eyelids. The tension in his groin was painful, distracting him when he didn’t want to be distracted. He wanted to savor the flush on Caro’s cheeks, the trembling of her mouth, the sensual darkness in her eyes when her lashes fluttered open. He’d never seen Caro like this. He’d never dreamed how special, how beautiful, how vulnerable she was in loving.
    There was a word for a woman who teased. There was probably a word for a man as well. Unfortunately, he’d have to live with the epithet, because he’d just had an infinitely clear glimpse of how it could be for them, how he wanted it to be for Carroll when they made love for the first time.
    The caviar and wine had been so easy. He could think up more ways to court her as a woman wanted to be courted. He’d been selfish, he realized, too set in his ways to see Carroll’s needs—but that was all going to change. He was going to change—completely.
    “Caro?” Reluctantly, he leaned away from her to reach for the bottle of champagne and tin of caviar. When he handed her a cracker and a glass of wine, their eyes met, and he couldn’t help but smile. Carroll was lying limply on the blanket, and her brown eyes still looked dazed. “Would you like to go dancing tonight?” he asked her.
    “Dancing?” The word seemed unfamiliar. The world seemed vaguely unfamiliar. She couldn’t stop looking at Alan, even as she sipped the wine, even as she nibbled at the caviar.
    Her breasts felt a lingering,