Her door beckoned, bright gleaming red. She unlocked it and waved him inside, locking up behind herself.

Eamon filled her small entryway with more than just his physical presence. His heat, his vitality took up every inch of the place, sliding over her skin, seeping into her pores. The man was potent. Caitlin hesitated, unable to remember if he’d always been so. She seemed to recall his sexuality had been more casual, playful. Then again, hers had too. Four years had been a lifetime for her. In that time he’d lost his father and had taken on a new life’s path. That would change anyone, deepen their focus. It worked on him, she decided after taking a long look.

He put his bag down—he’d told her earlier it contained his camera—and hung his coat up before taking hers.
“I like it here,” he murmured, drawing her into the main room. “I don’t suppose I’d have imagined you in a room with these deep purples and golds. And yet, looking at you now, here, it works. It’s regal.” He stood in front of her, the bed only steps away. He drew the backs of his fingers down her cheek and she relaxed.

She knew this man, he knew her. Everything would be fine.

“You still with me, Cat?”

She reached down and grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and off, tossing it on the chair behind her. Releasing the clip that held most of her hair, she sent it cascading down her back and shoulders.

“Yes. You?”

“Good Lord, you’re beautiful.” He bent his body, dipping his head to brush his lips across her bare shoulder briefly.

“Would you like a beer or a glass of wine? It’s a bit chilly, I thought I’d start a fire before we got naked.”

“I approve of your priorities. What sort of beer and or wine do you have?”

“Take your sweater off first. I want to see you. Or part of you for now.” Caitlin realized her voice had shifted lower, into a sort of purr. It had been a while since sex had been more than a perfunctory meeting of a need. A long while since she’d truly felt sexual, especially sexy herself. Perhaps it was that he represented a part of herself she’d lost.

“Pleased to oblige you.” His sweater joined her shirt and she sighed happily. His upper body was beautiful. Hard but not bulked. Just the right amount of muscle. She was unwilling to stop herself from sliding her palms across his pecs, delighting in the way they jumped at her caress. Just the right amount of hair on his chest, lovely, flat nipples she remembered were very sensitive.

“You’re still so very delicious.”