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last danced with him like this yesterday.
    And her body was
responding
just as it had in high school—only much stronger. Back then, she wouldn’t have believed a girl could yearn for a guy’s touch more intensely than she’d yearned for Joe’s at the time—but she’d been so very wrong. The small of her back ached with pleasure and need, delivering the urge to crush herself against him—but then she realized they were
already
pushed pretty tightly together, her breasts to his chest, their pelvises aligned. When had
that
happened? And why hadn’t she kept a reasonable distance between them?
    Because you’re melting. And because you’re beginning to lose complete control over this situation. He’s fudge, after all.
    “This is nice, Trish.” Yet he hadn’t said it like it was nice. He’d said it like he was turned on, his voice low and smoldering.
    “Yeah.” Had she just said that? Oh God—she had. Although, to her horror, she hadn’t really
said
it so much as
breathed
it.
    And then things somehow turned very slow and hard to fathom.
    She knew only his hands, caressing her back, all over.
    His breath, coming heavy and deep in her ear, on her neck.
    His hips, beginning to move, ever-so-gently, and sexy, against hers.
    And not just his hips. Oh my—she could
feel
him. Hardening against her. Softly grinding. Darkness hid the sight, leaving the intimate friction a secret only the two of them shared, and her eyes fell shut, absorbing the sensation. This was
way
better than fudge.
    She needed more of him now. Not just that rock-solid part, but the rest of him, too. She needed to run her hands over all these muscles he hadn’t possessed when they were young. She needed to touch the stubble on his face, kiss his mouth—hard.
    But—dear God—where had her sanity gone?
    Push him away. Say you’ve had enough dancing, you need to go buy some fudge, anything.
    Yet an overwhelming magnetism had come into play now, one she couldn’t break free of. Especially when he peered heatedly down at her, then brushed an agonizingly soft kiss across her lips.
    She made a sound. Like a moan. Low but potent. She hated that she’d let it leak out, but like everything else tonight, it seemed beyond her control. That tiny little kiss had just stirred her more deeply than
sex
with
some
men.
    “Damn, Trish, I’m sorry—I didn’t plan it like this.” His voice was like a hot breeze. “But some things never change, I guess.”
    Oh Lord. What the hell to say to
that.
She had no idea.
    He pulled back slightly, his blue eyes gone dark and completely possessive as he said, “Come home with me.”
    Whoa.
Come home with him?
    She understood how he’d gotten all those proverbial notches in his bedpost—he might not know how people outside of Eden danced, but he was clearly schooled in the art of seduction. And she was completely aroused by everything about him—yet it wasn’t that simple. There was no way she could let him seduce her like this, just no way. Betrayed once because she wouldn’t do it, then bedded for a night because now she was grown up and she would? A few short minutes ago he’d been earnestly apologizing for the past and now he was asking her to sleep with him? She was not the chaste, untouched girl she’d been in high school, but she couldn’t become just another conquest for him, either.
    “No,” she said, proud she sounded so darn sure.
    He didn’t look surprised, just disappointed. And, as he always had, he used his eyes to plead with her, to look sincere and sexy all at once. “Come on, Trish. Let me show you what you missed.”
    Oh.
Ouch.
His words swept her smoothly back to a very old passion in the midst of this very
new
passion—and it would have been ridiculously easy to give in.
    But it was a matter of pride. And principle. She’d gotten
over
the past, yet she hadn’t
forgotten
it. And to let him seduce her—to let him hear her say no, yet then convince her to say yes—seemed like the