Twelve.

Sophie Saunders was going to have sex with Dune Cates, a man she'd been crazy about since she was seven. Her pulse raced as he lifted her out of the water and held her high against his chest. She circled his neck with her arms. Water droplets glistened on his slicked-back hair. Their wet bodies were warm and slippery.

He climbed the pool steps and carried her easily across the deck. He twisted slightly so she could open, then close, the sliding doors.

Awareness came in a look, a touch, a softly spoken word. Dune told her she was beautiful and special and that he was so stiff he could barely walk.

He made it to the front door and found his athletic bag. He scooted it along with his foot. He was over a head taller than Sophie and his shoulders were twice as wide. She rested her cheek against the solid wall of his damp chest and heard the steady beat of his heart. His forearm secured her bottom. She looked up as he glanced down. He stopped in the hallway and kissed her.

His kisses started light as air. Still, she shivered. He kissed her cheek and behind her ear, just barely teasing her. Sophie followed his lead and did what came naturally to her. She kissed his chin and neck, then flicked her tongue to the pulse point at the base of his throat. His scent hinted of chlorine, lime, and man. Clean and masculine. His groan rose from deep in his chest. A guttural, turned-on sound.

His kisses grew deeper. He was patient yet insistent. He drew her beyond what she expected or had ever known. She was naive, but not shy. She'd grown up afraid of crowds, the Gulf, and her shadow. She'd never feared Dune Cates. And she'd never feared sex.

He was as into her as she was into him. He broadened his stance and braced his back against the wall long before they reached her bedroom. He positioned her so her legs wrapped his waist. He ran his fingers down her rib cage, at first with infinite care, then with male craving.

His hands clutched her hips and his thumbs teased her belly. He touched the sensitive back of her thighs, then stroked the crease behind each knee.

He squeezed her bottom.

Flush against him, she felt every inch of his maleness. He was stiff and substantial; a man in his prime.

She wasn't tentative. She trusted him. She touched him instinctively. She ran her hands through his hair, then drew her thumbs across his cheekbones. She traced the powerful set of his shoulders. He was all warm skin and seductive muscle. She feathered her fingers over his chest hair, scraped a nail across his abdomen. He inhaled sharply.

She tightened her thighs and melted against him.

He eventually pushed off the wall and continued down the hall. He shoved the athletic bag ahead of them with his foot. He walked slowly and they continued to kiss.

He lifted his head slightly as they neared the end of the hallway. "Your bedroom?" he asked.

"Last room on the right."

He kissed her all the way to the master suite. They slowly broke apart when they entered the room. Dune went very still as he took in the surroundings. Sophie looked at the large room as she imagined he saw it. History rose from the floor to the ceiling. It was a bit intimidating, even to a confident man.

"Damn, Sophie." He set her down and took her hand. "You're a Renaissance woman." His voice was low and amazed. "That's one massive bed."

She understood his astonishment. She was far from frivolous, but she valued a good night's sleep. She'd invested in a luxurious antique bedroom set, which included a grand four-poster of dark wood and marble overlay. Thick Corinthian columns with fluted tops stood at each end. The headboard was wide and intricately carved. The top of the board arched nearly to the ceiling. She'd chosen sconces over lamps and overhead lighting. Two sconces were attached to the headboard.

She'd made her bed with earth tones: taupe sheets and a brown satin comforter. Decorative and European sham pillows in green and gold were propped against the headboard. A plush, leather-padded bench with scroll arms banked the foot of the bed. Oriental runners covered the chocolate marble floors.

Two polished burl armoires bordered her blue brocade fainting couch along the far wall. A swinging floor mirror in a wide wooden frame was positioned near a window with eastern exposure. Sophie often laid in bed and watched the sun rise. She looked over at Dune. He was someone worth waking up beside in the morning. She hoped he would stay the night.

"Take a minute to look around," she offered. She needed to catch her breath after all their kissing.

He shook his head and turned back to her. His eyes warmed and his smile spread. "I'd rather look at you."

He fixed his gaze on her and he never looked away. Action, then reaction. He wanted to see how his touch affected her. Her emotions were easily read. She'd never been able to hide her feelings.

He bent down and lightly kissed her brow, the curve of her chin, then her breastbone. His hand found its way under her tankini top. He stroked upward and palmed her breast. She went soft inside. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her heart beat faster.

His long fingers next stretched to her shoulders. The thin straps on her swimsuit gave way. The top was damp, yet loose and easy to slide. It tipped on one nipple and the point of her hip on its way down, pooling at her feet.

She stood before Dune in her bikini bottom.

She felt overly exposed.

He comforted and supported her. "You're beautiful, Sophie." His voice was as deep and strong as an embrace.

He lowered to one knee and ran his forefinger between her breasts. He bent his head, licked a nipple, and the tip puckered. She blushed when he kissed his way down the center of her body. Dampness gathered between her thighs.

"So soft, so sexy," Dune breathed against her belly.

He gently removed her swimsuit bottom. She stood naked before him. A sparkling water droplet rolled down her breast and caught on her nipple. Another one glided down to her belly. A third glistened like a diamond in her triangle of curls. Dune removed the droplets with the edge of his thumb.

Shyness dipped her head and she tried to cover herself with her hands.

He nipped her inner thigh. "No hiding, Sophie."

Her hands fell to her sides. "I want to see you, too," she said.

He pushed to his feet and let her take over.

They communicated through their chemistry. He was hot for her and she felt lit up from the inside out. She'd waited her entire life for him to find her and make love to her.

Touching Dune seemed right somehow. She wasn't tentative or clumsy. She was straightforward and curious as she explored his big body.

She loved the texture of his skin; the underlying flex of his muscles. She rose on tiptoe to bite his shoulder, then tongue his male nipples. She fanned her hands over his abdomen. Her fingers shook as she removed his board shorts. She stared at him then. She couldn't help herself. Sculpted and symmetrical, he stood tall and firm; magnificent in her eyes and larger than life.

She caught her breath and gave his erection the attention it deserved. She held him with great care. She stroked and his hips rocked. His penis heated between her palms. His low groan pleased her.

Sophie knew her limitations. She could never be a temptress; never hold sexual power over any man. But she would give her last breath to satisfy Dune. She wanted him that badly. She felt sexy and a little reckless with this man.

She could no longer show restraint or hold back her increasing urges. Neither could he.

Dune tossed his athletic bag toward the bed, then took her in his arms. He walked her across the floor until her calves bumped the wooden sidebar. He guided her down until she lay on her back. He settled beside her.

His mouth sealed with hers, again and again. His teeth teased her lower lip. Her eyelids fluttered closed. His kiss was sensual and molten, stirring her soul and heightening her arousal.

He made her feel special.

His hand slid down the length of her body. His long fingers stretched and searched, his palm pressing hotly into her abdomen. He stroked her wetness, then inserted the tip of one finger. She tensed until his knuckle hit a spot that made her moan. She lifted her hips instinctively, a wave of intense pleasure reaching deep down inside her.

Aroused and anxious, she clutched his bare shoulders, needing stability. The hair on her nape and on her arms tingled as if she were about to be struck by lightening.

"Let me know if I'm hurting you." His voice was strained. Hesitation creased his brow. The corners of his eyes and mouth were drawn with concern.

"You won't," she breathed against his mouth Her words relaxed him. He managed to exhale.

He left her for only a moment, rolling over and scoring a condom from his sports bag. Once sheathed, he covered her with his body. He entwined their fingers and drew her arms over her head. Her entire body seemed stretched. Her breasts rose firm and high and her stomach flattened. Her hips came slightly off the mattress.

He appreciated her nudity. His gaze seared her.

He parted her with his knee and eased into her with one slow stroke. A heartbeat of pain made her stiffen; then it was over. Her body accepted him.

He pulsed inside her.

Her stomach quivered.

Dune went perfectly still. She sensed he wouldn't continue without a sign from her. A sigh of longing broke on her lips. She was completely his.

His eyes dilated and his nostrils flared. "It only gets better," he breathed near her ear.

The best came with a shift of his hips. He rocked gently, thrust slowly. He soon found a rhythm she could accept.

She inched toward an elusive sensation; an emotion that would fulfill her. Her heart warmed and her soul soared. She now understood what it meant to crave a man with her entire being.

Any loneliness she'd felt in her life disappeared. As if it never existed. She belonged to him.

She was close to coming and so was he.

Sharp pants of pleasure escaped her lips.

Dune's own breathing was ragged and rose from his gut.

She surrendered.

And his control broke.

Color flushed in her cheeks and she cried out, a sound that came from her core.

The very air around them seemed to explode.

A hard, racking shudder convulsed her.

One last stroke and Dune gave himself up to his climax. He followed her to the end.

Spent, he collapsed on his side and held himself up on one elbow. He drew her to face him. Their heartbeats slowed. She felt in sync with him.

He stared down on her, gently brushing strands of damp hair off her face and neck. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Never been better," she said, honestly.

Her words seemed to please him. One corner of his mouth curved. "We have great chemistry together."

"Isn't sex the same for you every time?" she had to ask. Dune was experienced. He'd been with other women. She needed a basis for comparison.

He cupped her chin, stroked her cheek. "I'll quote Mac," he said. " 'Sometimes it's good, other times it's bad. A few nights you wish you'd just stayed home.' "

"I'm satisfied." She kissed his palm.

"You wore me out, woman." He rose, then walked into the master bath and disposed of his condom. "Shower, Sophie?" he asked from the doorway.

She nodded. The warm water would soothe her soreness. She'd had an active day between the pedicab tours, her swim, and sex with Dune. Of the three, making love had strained her muscles the most and left her tender.

Bold in her nakedness, Sophie crossed to him. He drew her into the shower and tucked her close. He set the spray on hot and pulsing. He poured her Sweet Pea shower gel onto his palm and told her to relax.

Sophie leaned back against the tiles and smiled to herself. There was something to be said for a man with soapy hands who knew his way around a soft-bristle, long-handled bath brush.

Spectacular and orgasmic came to mind.

She was appreciative.

Seven-thirty a.m. and Sophie Saunders contemplated sex etiquette. The morning after seemed a bit awkward. Did she make Dune coffee? Fix him breakfast? Offer him privacy? This was all new to her.

She lay naked, sprawled across him, her breasts bared, her bottom covered only by a sheet. A slight turn of her head and she noticed how the satin caressed her ass. She blushed, remembering how Dune had cupped her bottom when she'd knelt astride his hips, cowgirl-style. She liked feeling in control. She'd held the power twice last night.

She wondered if she was able to walk. Sex with Dune was both thrilling and strenuous. Her lower body ached as if she'd exercised for a solid month.

She'd gotten up several times during the night, needing to stretch and move around. She'd returned the hamsters to their cage, then later risen to comb her hair and brush her teeth. Afterward, she'd walked around her bedroom in hopes of relieving her soreness. She felt bow-legged.

She wasn't used to having a man in her bed, especially someone as big as Dune. While they fit together perfectly during lovemaking, they'd compromised in sleep. She smiled over their differences.

She liked fluffy pillows stacked behind her head, while he preferred only one, and a flat one at that.

He slept best with the room temperature below seventy; she liked it above.

She preferred the comforter pulled up to her chin. He wanted nothing on him, not even a sheet.

Classical music put her to sleep. She'd put Arthur Rubinstein's Chopin Nocturnes into her DVD and closed her eyes. Dune turned it off the moment he thought she was asleep. Sneaky man.

She could live without her music.

She couldn't live without the man.

His arms now wrapped her waist, securing her to him. His body radiated heat. He was far warmer than a blanket. She shifted slightly and encountered his erection. Morning sex would be amazing, she thought, just not at that moment. She hurt too much. If she had sex again, she would need a walker or a cane to get around today.

She cautiously wiggled her toes and tried to straighten her legs. Her first pedicab tour was at ten. She planned to stop by the mayor's office later that afternoon. She was very interested in the curator position.

She didn't know Dune's schedule. He continued to sleep, which gave her the opportunity to study him. She held her breath, then lifted herself up on one elbow, afraid she would waken him. Her heart squeezed in appreciation of his male beauty. She understood why women mobbed him. The tag Beach Heat served him well. He was one hot volleyball player.

His blond hair was now mussed, his brow smooth. His eyelashes were light brown. He had a small scar at the corner of his left eye. She lightly traced it with the tip of one finger, then went on to cup his jaw. His morning scruff appealed to her. She didn't care if he ever shaved again.