Hannah eyes were unbelievably round, and she was staring up at him. Her moist lips immobilized him, and in that moment he knew he had to taste her again. His need was beyond reason, beyond his control. He reached for her, barely giving her time to adjust to his embrace before his mouth smothered hers. He caught her unaware and used it to his advantage to slip his tongue into her mouth. He expected her to protest the unfamiliar invasion, but she surprised him once more by giving him her own. Their mouths played with each other, danced, sang, rejoiced in the intimacy they shared.
Sliding his hands down the length of her spine, he drew her to him, pulling her into the heat of him. For an instant she resisted, and Riley feared he had gone too far, frightening her when that was the last thing he wished. He wanted to make love to her, the way he'd been dreaming about doing for nearly four months. Every minute she made him wait seemed like an eternity.
Hannah wasn't like any other woman he'd known. She was delicate and sweet and deliciously provocative, innocently provocative. He couldn't hold her without experiencing the sensation of walking through a field of blooming wildflowers. With his hands at her hips, he dragged her closer, letting her feel the heat rise in him. He edged his way toward the bed, thinking if he were able to get her on top of the mattress, he might be able to remove her blouse. The thought of tasting her breasts, of holding them in his hands once more, was so powerful he lost his balance. He caught himself and her, before they went crashing to the floor. It was then that he noticed the framed picture lying on top of an unpacked box.
He stopped abruptly as a cold chill raced over him. His eyes narrowed as he looked down on her. "Who's that?" he demanded.
Chapter Five
"Who is he?" Riley demanded a second time. Instinct told him the photo wasn't one of a relative. He knew he was right when Hannah's gaze shot toward the box in question. The look that came over her features was incredible, a mixture of pain and of love so strongly mingled that it was as if she were no longer aware of who or where she was.
"Jerry Sanders," she answered in a voice so low Riley had to strain to hear. "We were engaged."
"Engaged?" Riley repeated the word, not because the news shocked him or because he didn't believe her, but because… if she'd been engaged to Jerry Sanders, then why the hell had she been a virgin? Furthermore, why had she gone to bed with him? Questions came at him like exploding rockets.
"He… died a… few months back… in a car accident." It was apparent that even speaking of her former fiancé was painful for Hannah.
Suddenly everything clicked into place for Riley. The way she'd stared at him that night on the waterfront. The ethereal look about her, the pain and uncertainty he'd read in her eyes. No wonder he'd felt this overwhelming urge to take her in his arms, hold her, protect her, love her. She had been walking around emotionally wounded, absorbed in her grief.
"When?"
She understood his question without him having to elaborate. Tears crowded her eyes, and when she spoke it was with difficulty. "July second."
A sick, sinking sensation landed with a hard thud in the pit of his stomach. Three weeks. Seafair, when he'd met Hannah, had been a scant three weeks following Jerry's death. No wonder she'd come warm and willing to his bed. She'd been in such grief she hadn't a clue what she was doing. This also explained why she'd run from him early the following morning.
Closing his eyes, Riley roughly plowed his fingers through his hair. When he opened his eyes, he found Hannah staring at him. "Do you love him?" he asked, his heart pounding like a giant hammer inside his chest. It wasn't in Hannah to lie. Of that, Riley was certain.
She looked away and nodded