“Want to stay at my place?” he asked quietly as they got close to the large mansion. “You could pull your car into the garage.”

“That sounds good,” she said.

He drove into the driveway and hit the remote control button. As the large double garage door opened, she slid out and walked around the corner to her car.

Five minutes later, she’d parked next to him and followed him into the massive kitchen. As it had before, the sight of the large, open space made her cake-baker heart beat faster.

“Kitchen envy,” she said with a sigh. “I need a twelve-step program to recover.”

“Can we take care of that later?”

“Sure.”

He crossed to the refrigerator. “Hungry?”

She followed him and tried to peer over his shoulder. “You have food?”

“I have take-out leftovers.” He grabbed a chilling bottle of champagne, then stepped back. “See anything you like?”

She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the champagne long enough to make a menu selection.

“Did you just happen to have that chilling in anticipation of the three F’s or….”

He coiled his free hand in her hair, tugged her head back, then pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was hot, quick and full of promise.

“I bought it yesterday.”

Passion flooded her brain, making it difficult to concentrate. “You mean after we….”

His dark gaze locked with hers. “After we made love. Yes. This isn’t generic, I-hope-I-get-lucky champagne. I bought it for you, Gracie.”

Her bare toes curled. She didn’t remember a man buying champagne for her before. Certainly not—she glanced at the label—Dom Perignon.

She closed the refrigerator door with a bump of her hip. “I’m not very hungry. For food.”

He smiled. “Good.”

He walked to a cabinet and removed two champagne glasses, then jerked his head toward the hallway.

“Shall we?”

“Absolutely.”

She followed him to the wide, curving staircase. On her last visit to his house, the tour hadn’t gotten this far. She noted several portraits on the walls. Previous generations of Whitefields, she wondered. But she didn’t want to spoil the mood by asking.

The staircase continued up to a third floor, but Riley stopped on the second and made a left turn. They passed four or five other rooms before he pushed open the door of one and stepped inside.

Gracie wasn’t sure what to expect. She didn’t know if Riley wanted to sleep in his grandfather’s bed to prove that he could or if he would choose another space. As she glanced around she saw that he’d apparently picked a more neutral space—what looked like a simply furnished guest room with a large bed, two nightstands and a dresser. The light from the hall spilled onto a pale carpet. The walls looked either blue or green—she couldn’t tell.

Riley set the champagne on the dresser and unwrapped the foil. Seconds later, he popped the cork and poured them each a glass.

“I’ve never had champagne this fancy,” she said as she took the slender flute he offered and then sipped.

The bubbles bounced off her tongue—the flavor was light, delicious, almost sweet and addictive.

“Do you like it?” he asked when she’d swallowed.

“Very much. Unfortunately, it’s not going to fit in my budget.”

“Save it for special occasions,” he said as he took a sip, then set his glass on the dresser and moved close.

She started to say there was no point—that for the rest of her life whenever she saw the distinctive shape of a bottle of Dom Perignon, she would always think of him. Instead she moved over so she could put her glass on the nightstand, then watched as he stepped close and took her in his arms.

The first time they’d made love, there had been a frantic quality about the joining. She’d wanted with a desperation that hadn’t allowed her to do much more than feel. This time she was able to think as well as experience and she tried to pay attention to every detail so she could relive it later.

She noticed that even as he claimed her mouth in a soft, teasing kiss that promised so much more, he placed one hand on her hip and the other on the back of her neck. He kept the hand on her hip still while he moved the other through her hair. He’d done that before, she thought hazily as he bit down on her lower lip and made her want to squirm against him. He seemed to love touching her hair. He often—

His tongue touched where he’d nipped her and she parted instantly. As he swept inside, her stomach muscles clenched and her breasts began to ache. She rested her hands on his shoulders, enjoying the heat and strength of him.

He explored her mouth, touching, circling, enticing. When he retreated, she followed, wanting to know every part of him. He tasted of champagne, he smelled of ocean and night and desire.

When he shifted his mouth so that he could kiss her jaw, she leaned her head in the opposite direction to give him more room. He nibbled his way down her neck. Her skin puckered, her breasts swelled even as she felt her nipples get hard and sensitive. She wanted to rip off her clothes and have him take her right there. She wanted him to go slowly, so the moment never ended.

Indecision filled her as she clung to him. He sucked on her earlobe, licked the skin on her neck and then made a slow but steady beeline for her breasts.

Without thinking, she dropped her hands from his shoulders so she could unfasten her shirt and let it drop off her shoulders. He bent over her, moving closer and closer, making her work frantically at the hooks on her bra. The last one caught and she nearly broke it in her haste to bare herself before him.

At last the hook gave and she jerked the bra down and tossed it on the floor. But instead of touching her there, he straightened.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said as he stared into her eyes. “You make me want things.”

“Good.”

Although she wasn’t all that interested in talking about them right now. If they were naked things, then doing would be much better than talking.

Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to read her mind. Instead of reaching for her, he picked up his glass of champagne and took a long sip. Then he set the glass down, bent toward her and took her nipple in his mouth.

The combination of his heat, the cool champagne and the bubbles was a sensation she’d never experienced before. She grabbed for his shoulders to keep herself from falling. When his tongue swirled around, moving the bubbles over her sensitized skin, she gasped with pleasure.

He swallowed, then straightened and reached for his glass. “I need to take care of the other breast,” he said with a grin. “It’s important to be fair.”

“You bet,” she told him, already weak with anticipation.

He filled his mouth with the champagne, then caressed her with a tingling, exciting, bubbly caress. She wrapped both arms around his head in a silent plea that he never stop.

When he’d swallowed again, he licked her, then sucked until she felt her bones melt and her body turn to liquid.

He straightened and pulled her close, then kissed her mouth. She couldn’t get enough of him. She couldn’t be near enough, touching enough, feeling enough. There were so many sensations, so many promises between them. She wanted the chance to fulfill each other.

When he reached for the button on her jeans, she reached for his shirt. They managed to unfasten each other, then he shrugged out of his shirt and she stepped out of her jeans. She pulled down her panties while he took care of the rest of his clothes. Then they were both naked and heading for the bed.

He kissed her everywhere. As she lay on her back, he kissed and licked and nibbled his way from her ears to her toes. Sometimes he sipped champagne first and she experienced the erotic combination of hot, cold, smooth and bubbly kisses.

On the return trip, he nibbled her ankle before licking his way up to her knees. He bit down and made her giggle, he sucked and made her squirm. Then he moved higher, to her thigh.

His large hands kneaded her muscles, his thumbs sweeping closer and closer to the heat radiating from between her legs. He watched her as he touched her, his dark eyes bright with desire, his mouth curved up in a smile.

She let her gaze sweep over him, the broadness of his shoulders, the breadth of his chest, the dark hair swirling down his flat belly. He was hard and ready and she ached to have him inside of her…right up until he bent down and she felt his breath on her. She moved her legs farther apart and closed her eyes in anticipation. Then she felt it—the soft brush of his mouth and the long, slow lick of his tongue.

As he moved against her, he slipped a single finger inside of her and gently pushed it in and out.

The combination of sensations made her gasp for breath. She’d been prepared to like what he did but not to fall so hard and so fast. She could barely breathe. Her muscles tensed and she dug her heels into the bed. Good manners insisted that she wait at least a couple of minutes before losing herself in her orgasm, but she wasn’t sure she could hold on that long.

He felt too good. When he stroked her, he seemed to know exactly the right speed. That relentless finger continued to move in and out, teasing, pushing, promising bigger and better things to come.

He circled her most sensitive spot, then caressed it with the flat part of his tongue. He blew on her and made her shiver. He covered her with his lips and gently sucked until she knew her release was as inevitable as the tide they’d watched earlier.

He began to move a little faster. The finger, his tongue. Pressure built and built until she had no choice but to give way. She clutched at the sheets, raised her chin to the ceiling and gasped out her release.

The waves came one on top of the other. He continued to stroke her, to move in and out and she found herself carried along as the pleasure stretched out endlessly.

At last the need slowly died away. He drew back and kissed her thigh, then pushed up to his knees. She opened her eyes and smiled at him.

“I have another F,” she said lazily. “Fabulous.”

“I like that F.”

“Me, too.”

She patted the mattress and waited until he stretched out next to her before standing and walking to get the bottle of champagne from the dresser.

Riley gave himself over to enjoying the show. From the back Gracie was all swaying hips and graceful curves. From the front—he swore silently—she was a goddess.

Her long blond hair covered enough of her breasts to make him want to see more. Her narrow waist only emphasized the swell of her hips. He liked the fullness of her thighs, the length of her legs and that secret place between them that gave her all the power.

When she returned to the bed, she waved the bottle. “Mind if I ignore the glass?”

“Help yourself.”

She knelt beside him and took a sip of champagne. He had to admit that a beautiful naked woman kneeling next to him, drinking out of the bottle just before they got to the next round was going on his top ten list of erotic moments.

After setting the bottle on the nightstand, she bent down and pressed her mouth against his belly. He groaned as he felt her warm mouth followed by the cool, bubbly sensation of the champagne. Her tongue swirled against his skin.

“I like this,” she murmured.

“Me, too.”

She picked up the bottle and took another small sip. This time she moved lower and he braced himself for what was to come.

But all the preparation in the world couldn’t stop his body from reacting as she knelt between his parted legs, reached down to hold him still and then took him in her mouth.

He forgot to breathe through the sheer pleasure of her lips and tongue caressing him even as the cool champagne tickled and aroused and her long hair brushed his belly and thighs. She swirled her tongue around, then licked the very tip of him.

He swore out loud, grabbed for control and had a feeling his grip could slip at any second.