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fence,” he said.
    Still holding the lock of her hair, his other hand came up to brush lightly over the planes of her face. Erin concentrated on breathing, ignoring as much as she could the desire curling scrumptiously in her belly.
    He drew her lower lip down, revealing the row of teeth, and stroked the soft inner flesh with the tip of his finger.
    It was as if he had kissed her. She inhaled swiftly, her breath hitching.
    Amber eyes fastened on hers. Releasing her lip, he bent his head, his mouth hovering over hers. “How old were you when you were first kissed?”
    “Seven. It was the first time I had my heart broken, too. He did it on a dare .” She pouted, trying to remain playful when all she wanted to do was close that tiny space separating their lips.
    He cupped her jaw, his thumb rubbing gently over her skin. “Are you going to dare me?”
    “I don’t dare do that.”
    “How old were you when you first had sex?” Their breaths fanned each other, mouths close, but not touching . Intimate and sexy but not yet sexual.
    “Twenty.”
    “Late bloomer.”
    “Quite the opposite . I’ve pretty much looked like this since I was thirteen.”
    E yebrows shot up. “You must have left a trail of tears. Did you tease the boys in high school or disdain them?”
    “It probably looked like dis dain, but really I was terrified of them.” At his sound of disbelief, she wrinkled her nose. “Well, the second time I was kissed was a nasty experience. Wet and messy with much groping. The longest ten seconds of my life. Left almost permanent scars on my psyche.”
    She studied his face as he chuckled, admiring the fine texture of his skin, the thick lashes surrounding his almost feline eyes. It was so tempting to close the distance and find out if that mouth—that sensual, beautiful mouth—tasted as good as it looked. All she had to do was tilt her chin ever so slightly.
    But she refused to do so. This was fun. To change it up would be to remove the mischievousness, and certainly, a man like Ford Howard—a predator if she had ever seen one—would take advantage of any weakness. With every word and move cynically calculated to achieve one single goal. She was glad she had called him on it.
    And just because she could still see it didn’t make it any less effective. Especially now.
    “How old were you when you were first kissed?” she asked breathlessly.
    “Twelve. She was much older.” At her inquiring glance, he flashed a devastating grin. “Fourteen.”
    “ Wow. You should smile more. Works for you. How was that? The first kiss thing?”
    “Wet and messy with much groping. And I don’t mean on my part.”
    “In other words, you loved it. And virginity surrendered when?” She bit her lip, amused, and his gaze shifted to the gesture. “Same day?”
    “No. Fifteen.”
    “Yoikes. I was kidding about twelve! That’s still young.”
    “ Perhaps.” His hand came between their faces to run a fingertip caresses down her nose and across her cheek. “Soft skin.”
    “Thanks,” she whispered, very aware of the weight of his other hand on her leg, now shifted higher to rest above her knee, under the parted halves of her coat.
    “ When we were inside, you said you were thinking about sex.”
    That was a lot truer now, even. Her insides felt extraordinarily soft and malleable, preparing for hard, masculine invasion. Physiological response with a hefty psychological impact. Ever so slightly, her body undulated against the leather.
    Amber eyes flared as she unsuccessfully tried to quell the squirminess.
    A fingertip traced her lips. His gaze followed the movement, then flicked over her face, intent and compelling. He slid his fingers into her thick hair, applying gentle, pressuring encouragement to the base of her skull.
    “Tell me what you saw,” he breathed into her mouth. “Describe how you saw us together.”
    This wasn’t fencing. This was wrestling. But she could not deny that desire was overrunning