Taken aback by her passionate attack, he nonetheless wrapped his arms around her instinctively. Vaguely, he wondered how long it would last—when would she regain her senses, pull back and walk away? But as he felt her hand slide from the back of his head to the hem of his t-shirt and begin to pull it up, he broke away from her kiss long enough to gasp, “Joy—”

“Be quiet,” she hissed in his ear. “I want you now.”

“What?” he said again.

Joy’s hand slid under his shirt. She ran it up over his abs and chest then snaked it around his back and drew her nails down his shoulder blade. Desire fought with astonishment.

Desire won.

He backed her up against the battered green couch and they both fell onto it. She pulled herself on top of him so that she was straddling him and began unbuttoning his shirt while she kissed his neck. Her skirt had ridden up and he instinctively gripped her bare thighs, pulling her closer. The feel of her pressed against him was making him harder by the moment and rapidly driving thoughts of anything else out of his head, but he tried to maintain some semblance of reason before he lost control completely.

“Joy, are you sure—aahhh.” He temporarily lost his train of thought as she rocked her hips sensuously against him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m seducing you,” she said in a low, determined voice. “What does it look like?”

He ran his hands up over her very shapely ass and gripped her hips. He wasn’t sure how long it would be before she came to her senses, but he might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Still …

“Who are you, and what have you done with the real Joy Albright?” Maybe not the best time for jokes, but he was out of his depth here and scrambling for familiar ground. He wanted her—more with each thrust of her hips against him—but he hadn’t been prepared for such a passionate assault.

“This is the real me.” She undid the last button and pulled his shirt open to reveal his torso. A smile spread over her face and she ran her hands over his pecs and bent to kiss his neck.

He ground his teeth. It was all he could do to keep from tearing her clothes off in reciprocation. He pulled away from her just enough that he could look her in the face. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Her cheeks were flushed and her green eyes were sparking with lust and excitement. She gripped the collar of his undone shirt and pulled him toward her. “Hell yes, I want this.”

“All right, then.

He pushed them both off the couch. Cradling her head as he brought them to the floor, he pinned her to the dusty carpet, settling between her legs.

After that, it was a frenzy of movement. He kissed her urgently, then rose to unbutton her silk knit top, which he pulled aside to reveal a lacy bra. It was the kind that undid at the front, and he had it unsnapped and pushed aside in a flash. He gave himself barely a moment to admire her full breasts and small pink nipples before he took one greedily in his mouth, feeling it swell slightly beneath his tongue. Beneath him, she made a mewling noise and writhed, pressing her hips against his hardness. He groaned.

“Joy …” he murmured.

She was reaching between them, fumbling at his waistband. He pulled himself up to allow her access, and she swiftly undid his jeans and pushed them down his hips. She gripped him, and he let out a half-strangled moan as she began to stroke him.

He moved away after a moment, afraid he might not last long if she kept touching him. Instead, he reached beneath her skirt and pulled down her panties. Any thoughts of technique or refinement were gone; he’d been overcome with a primitive need to possess her, and possess her now.

To his astonishment, the moment the panties were off, she pushed him onto his back and straddled him. Pinning his legs between her shapely thighs, she smiled down at him as she began to rub herself tantalizingly against him. She was wet, she was ready … this was torture for him and she knew it.

He groaned. “My wallet. Condom.”

Still straddling him, she retrieved his wallet from his half-off jeans and extracted the condom. He was still in the habit of carrying one, though it had been a long time since he’d needed it.

He wouldn’t have thought he could be even more turned on, but watching a beautiful woman tearing open the foil package with her teeth was a whole new level of torture. She slid the condom on him with exquisite slowness, smiling down at him like she was relishing the agony she was causing him. He had to bite his tongue not to beg her to go faster, to make it happen now.

Still moving with tortuous slowness, she got up on her knees, guided him to her entrance, and lowered herself onto him. He let out a deep, long-held groan and gripped her hips as she lifted herself up and down on him. Her eyes rolled back under half-closed lids, her mouth formed an O, her full breasts bounced and she made slight gasping noises with every movement of her hips.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

He let her take the lead, happy to relinquish the reins of control if it meant being able to look at her like this, feel her like this. She ran her hands over his abs and up to his shoulders, then leaned down to kiss him hungrily. He considered flipping her over onto her back, but she stretched up again, and he lost himself in the sensations of her.

She began to pick up the pace and moved against him more urgently, riding him with renewed abandon. He dug his fingers into her ass, pulling her against him, trying to delay his own climax until she was done. Just as he was afraid that he could take no more, she threw back her head with a draw-out moan, and he felt her entire body shudder.

Only now did he give in to his deepest needs. Flipping her onto her back, he buried himself hilt-deep into her, thrusting as if his life depended on it. He felt her wrap her legs around his waist, felt the scrape of a heel on his lower back, and registered with vague amusement that she was still wearing her shoes.

But the shoes, and everything else, were forgotten a moment later as the ecstasy rolled over him with his release.

For several long moments they lay there. Joy’s face was hidden in his neck. She was breathing heavily and he could feel her heart beating against his chest. He fought to regain control of his own breathing. Finally, he rolled off her and lay by her side, groping for something to say that would bring some semblance of normalcy to this completely unexpected, utterly amazing experience.

“So, that was fun,” he came up with.

Stupid, stupid thing to say. He kicked himself mentally for making a joke when he should have been whispering endearments. She responded with a quiet huff of amusement but said nothing.

After a few minutes of silence, he tried again. “What are you thinking?”

She was silent for a beat, then answered, “… Nothing.”

In his experience, “nothing” ranked second only to “fine” in terms of things that actually meant the exact opposite.

Joy sat up and began straightening her clothes, first fastening her bra and then doing up her sweater. The loss of her body heat made him feel cold, and he hastened to adjust his own clothing.

She found her panties but instead of putting them back on, she stuffed them absent-mindedly into her purse, and adjusted her skirt. On another occasion, he would have relished the thought of Joy walking around with no panties, but now the gesture seemed so out of character as to be almost alarming.

He could sense her pulling away but had no clue as to why. To the extent that he’d allowed himself to imagine making love to her, he’d imagined something ... tender, in which he’d seek to assure her, before, during and after, that he wanted to take care of her, protect her, keep her happy and safe. And they’d make plans—for breakfast, for dinner ...

“Are you … okay? With what just happened?” he asked, watching her try to straighten her hair with her fingers for a moment before giving up. “You don’t regret it, do you?”

She turned and faced him with an expression of such intensity that he felt it as a physical force. Her lips were swollen with his kisses, her skin was glowing, and her eyes were still dark with desire. He was pleased that he’d played a role, but he suspected there was more to the look on her face than just his performance. He’d met some assertive women over the years but he’d never been with anyone who’d knocked him flat the way Joy just had.

“That was incredible, Chris. Really,” she breathed, leaning in and squeezing his hand for a brief moment before letting it drop. “The most amazing … No, I don’t regret it, I just … I guess I just wasn’t expecting … yeah … you don’t need a ride or anything, do you?” She sounded absent-minded as she looked around. Her eyes lit on her purse again and she picked it up.

“Nah, I’m good.” He shook his head for emphasis.

“Good.” She gave him a distracted smile. “I guess I’ll be going. Just close the door after you. It’ll lock, so don’t leave anything behind.”

The she was gone, the sound of the back door closing echoing behind her.

“What the hell just happened?” Chris asked, but the empty room didn’t answer.

* * *

“What the hell did I just do?”

Joy was driving home through the dark, quiet streets. Her body humming with satisfaction, but her mind turbulent with thoughts and emotions. There was so much to process that she wasn’t sure where to even begin.

She thought back, trying to remember if she’d ever had sex that deliriously, extraordinarily exciting ...

Nope.

The few experiences she’d had before she met Scott had been unfulfilling at best, just clumsy teenage groping in the dark. Scott himself had been a thoughtful and attentive lover; sex with him had been enjoyable, but never particularly passionate. With him, she had always felt an undercurrent of duty, a sense that if they hadn’t been married, she might not have bothered …

It had been thirteen years since a kiss—let alone sex—had made such an impression on her. Thirteen increasingly passionless years with Scott, thirteen years in which she’d felt her life getting smaller, in tiny, almost unnoticed increments.

But tonight, she started to feel it open up again, to feel an expansion in possibility, desire, and excitement.

It was exhilarating, amazing … and terrifying.

Tonight, all the frustration and anger that she’d been bottling up for so long had come to a head in a way she would never have foreseen, only to be replaced with a confusion of desire and fear.

She could easily fall for Chris; the combination of steamy sex, good looks, and all-around nice-guy-ness was pretty unbeatable. But, she reminded herself, he was just there for the summer. And while they might eventually make the logistics of a long-distance relationship work out, there was no cure for the fact that he was a star, constantly being talked about, always in the public eye. Moreover, even if he wasn’t engaged to Vanessa Swink, his career put him in the path of beautiful, successful, much younger women on a daily basis. If she couldn’t hold together a marriage to a man her own age in Silverweed Falls, what hope did she really have for a relationship with a younger Hollywood movie star?

She parked in the driveway and sat for a moment. The thought of her marriage had brought something else to the surface, an uncomfortable but insistent question as she relived her passionate evening with Chris …

… Was that what it had been like for Scott with Melanie?

Somewhere deep inside, something had been shaken loose, the idea that Scott, too, might have deserved more from their marriage. Surely he’d noticed her gradual withdrawal from their relationship, noticed that he was always the one to initiate intimacy, never the one to hear the words “I love you” first.

Not, she reminded herself, that she could condone the sneaking, the lying and the betrayal of her trust, but it was dawning on her that she could at least understand his desire for more. Maybe it was time to forgive, and move on. To release the baggage of resentment and bitterness that had kept her stuck for so long.

She got out of her car, and went inside, her mind and heart still racing. Wonderful, handsome, sexy, unengaged Chris. She should have told him what an amazing experience it had been and given him a better explanation—well, any explanation—for simply leaving, but she’d been too overwhelmed to think properly. Anyway, it hadn’t been the time for conversation; they’d either have fallen back into their playful bickering, or worse, gotten awkward around each other. Better to just exit gracefully.

He was just here for the summer, after all; just a few more weeks. There was no point in hoping for more, but if he was willing—and if tonight was anything to go by, she thought he would be—she’d make the most of the time they had left. He’d understand; he’d probably be relieved to know that she wasn’t looking for something serious.

She went upstairs to get ready for bed. She’d have to be careful, but as long as she reminded herself that this was temporary, she’d be okay. Weren’t people supposed to have rebound flings after they got divorced? She was overdue for hers, she thought as she slipped out of her clothes, inhaling the scent of Chris’s cologne on her skin. For virtually her entire life, she’d been the good girl who’d always done what she was supposed to do. Gone to a good college, gotten a good job, married a good man. None of them had ultimately made her happy, but here she was, still clinging to what she could, still keeping up appearances.

Hell. With. That.

This summer, she was going to live for herself … and make the most of Chris McPherson’s astounding body as long as she could.

She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to fall asleep, but when she slid into the cool, silky sheets, she realized she was exhausted. She closed her eyes and drifted off into a night of deep, restful slumber.