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“You can’t make it all right.”
“Sure I can. Even if I can’t make it right forever, I can fix it now. Close your eyes. Don’t think about it anymore.”
He held her head against his shoulder. His other hand moved slowly up and down her back. The comforting embrace weakened her resistance. She felt the tears forming. She clutched at his shirt and gave in to the pain.
It filled her, surrounding her. All the days and nights she’d lived with her shameful secret, all the lies she’d told, willingly and unwillingly. She’d hoped for a fresh start in this small town. Nothing was the way it was supposed to have been. This shouldn’t have happened to her.
Travis murmured quiet words of encouragement. Her sobs lessened. She drew in a ragged breath and turned her face toward his neck. His shirt was damp against her cheek, his legs hard beneath hers. Big strong hands held her gently, as if she were the most fragile of creatures. Something precious. She wanted to believe his embrace. She wanted to know that she was fragile and special, something of value.
“Better?” he asked when she’d been silent for several minutes.
Elizabeth nodded slowly. “Thanks for understanding. Sometimes I’m so overwhelmed by all of it. Not just what went wrong with Sam, but for everything we’ve lost. I wanted to give my daughter a perfect home with two loving parents.”
“Mandy is fine. You have a new job, you’re healing from the surgery. You’re both going to make it. So what’s the problem?”
She stared at his neck, studying the way his evening stubble roughened his skin. She wanted to touch him there, to see what he felt like against her fingers, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t right to repay his kindness with her own selfish needs.
“I can’t marry again. I would never trust myself to pick the right man.”
“That’s a big decision to make, based on one mistake.” She sat up and glared at him. “It was a hell of a mistake. Who are you to be telling me what I should think about marriage? You’ve had one bad experience, and you’re never getting married again.”
One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” She tried to wiggle out of his lap, but he held her firm. “It wasn’t just one experience,” he said, resting his hands on her waist.
She stopped fighting and sagged against him. “Does it hurt you, too? Does it hurt to know you’ll always be alone?”
“Yeah. It hurts like hell.”
He reached down for her at the exact moment she raised her head toward him. Their lips met. Unlike their other kisses, there was nothing gentle this time, no soft exploration. It was hard and hot, hungry and desperate. She could feel her own pain and his pain. The hurt, the bleakness of their futures compounded one another, growing until they were both close to drowning in need.
She clung to him, to his arms and shoulders, shifting to move her body closer. His strength would be her salvation. Just for this night, just for this tiny slip of time, she would steal what she had to, give all she could so he would be saved, as well.
His mouth angled over hers, his lips parted. She welcomed him, welcomed the sensations he brought, the forgetfulness of pleasure. That is what she needed, she thought, feeling his tongue with her own, tasting him, being tasted. She needed to forget everything in her life.
He touched her face, her hair, her shoulders, her back. Whisper-light touches that barely grazed her skin. They set her on fire. She moved closer so that her side pressed against him. Her breasts ached. She wanted him to touch her there, touch her everywhere. The heat of the fire helped her forget. She could get lost in the smoke. Disappear into the flames. He made her come alive in ways she’d forgotten existed.
His hands rested on her waist, then began to move higher. Her breasts swelled, her nipples puckered inside her bra. Against her hip she felt the hard ridge of his erection. An answering wanting moistened her panties.
“Travis,” she breathed in anticipation as his fingers stroked her rib cage.
He buried his face in her neck, kissing the sensitive skin under her jaw, nibbling on her earlobe, whispering her name like a prayer. His lips were warm and damp.
His hands moved higher still, at last cupping her full breasts, taking their weight into his palms. His thumbs swept across her nipples, sending sharp jolts of pleasure down to curl her bare toes. She arched against his caress, searching for more and more of his touch. But instead of assuaging her need, he moved his hands up to her shoulders, then slipped his fingers through her hair and held her head in place.
She opened her eyes and stared at him. The fire burning in his dark irises left no room for any emotion other than passion. She reveled in the need and desire that matched her own.
Never taking her eyes from him, she touched his face. Her fingers traced the straight line of his nose, the shape of his jaw. She heard the rasp of her fingertips against his stubble, and felt the smoothness of his mustache. She touched his damp mouth, tracing the shape, enjoying the heat. He parted his lips and licked the tip of her finger.
She laughed. He smiled at the sound; then his smile faded and she saw the questions forming in his eyes. Questions that quenched the fire and overpowered the need.
The loss was more than she could bear. “Don’t,” she whispered.
“Elizabeth, you’re reacting. It’s too soon.”
The disappointment tasted bitter. “I thought men always wanted to get women into bed. I guess it’s not true.” She tried to slide off his lap, but he held her in place. She flushed. “Or it’s not true with me.”
He thrust his hips forward, pressing his erection hard against her. “Do you need more proof that I want you? I’m trying to keep you from having regrets in the morning.”
“You’re thinking about my past.” It hurt to be rejected out of hand. The feeling was made worse by the fact that he was the first man she’d been attracted to, or had even kissed, since Sam. She hadn’t made love for over a year. She’d never once been tempted to stray, and since she found out the truth about her marriage, she’d been too ashamed to try dating. Nothing had changed. She was still the shy little nobody. The girl who didn’t understand boys or know how to attract them. The boys had grown into men, but she was just as lost as ever.
“I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” she said stiffly, wishing she wasn’t turning bright red.
“Damn it, Elizabeth, what do I have to do to prove to you that I’m trying to act like a gentleman?”
“Nothing at all— What are you doing?”
He placed one arm around her back and slipped the other underneath her legs. As he rose to his feet, he pulled her against his chest. He walked four steps to the bed.
“You are the most stubborn woman,” he growled as he bent over and placed her on the comforter.
“Stop. You don’t have to do anything. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t.” She started scrambling off the other side.
He grabbed both her hands in his. One he held down at the mattress, the other he drew to his crotch and placed against him. Even through his jeans he was hard and hot. He held on to her wrist and moved her palm up and down. A tremor shot through his body, and he gritted his teeth.
“Had enough?” he asked, his eyes once again burning with the fire.
“No,” she said truthfully.
“Elizabeth, don’t tempt me like this. You’re still recovering from your surgery. You’re upset about your past. I don’t want you to wake up and hate my guts. I like you too much for that.”
If he’d promised to love her forever, she would have never believed him. If he’d said the truth didn’t matter, she would have never forgiven him for the lie. But liking her she could believe. She liked him back. He was the closest thing in the world she had to a friend. He knew the truth about her and hadn’t turned his back on her. He might tomorrow. He might pity her or get angry. But for tonight he was her friend.
She reached for the first button on his jeans. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. It could just be about tonight.”
“Hell.” He brushed her fingers away and bent down and kissed her.
He didn’t wait for an invitation, but thrust inside her mouth savagely, hungrily, as if he’d been given permission to devour that which he most desired. He sucked on her lower lip, nipped her chin, then moved lower to the neck of her T-shirt. He paused long enough to slip off the offending garment and continue his journey of exploration.
His hands led the way, unfastening her bra to bare her breasts. The evening air was cool, in contrast to the heat of his mouth trailing ever closer. Damp kisses ignited her skin. His scent surrounded her, filling her with images of the man who touched her. She reached out to embrace his body, feeling the muscles in his arms and back, touching his short dark hair.
He murmured her name over and over again as if it were an incantation. His fingers reached for and found her puckered nipples, toying with them, readying them for his mouth.
He moved until he was straddling her. Their jeans slid back and forth creating friction. The bulging male part of him mated with her softer, damper center. Through the layers of clothing, she felt the promise of their joining.
Her hands fluttered against his chest and touched the buttons of his shirt. Before she could unfasten even one, he touched her right nipple with his tongue.
All rational thought fled. Her body awakened painfully to the joy of moist heat, the suckling that pulled exquisitely from her breast through her belly down to her swelling center. Her arms fell to her sides and her hands clung to the comforter. Her hips arched against him seeking the release of his touch.
Her breathing increased. She’d tried not to think about making love with Travis. She hadn’t been as successful as she would have liked. She’d known he would be tender and patient, qualities she’d seen in him every day. She thought she might enjoy the feel of his body close to her, on top of her, his powerful strength reminding her of her femaleness. His broad shoulders made her feel fragile—and safe. She’d known she would enjoy his attentions, but she hadn’t expected to lose control.
His fingers toyed with her other breast, teasing the hardened tip with the flick of his thumb. His kiss on her deepened, then he drew back and moved his lips over her nipple. The individual hairs of his mustache swept over her sensitized skin, making her gasp and bringing her shoulders up off the bed. She reached up and grabbed his head, holding him in place. She’d never been aggressive in bed before. She’d never offered any comments on Sam’s performance. He’d pleased her most of the time, and she’d been content with that. He’d occasionally asked her to be the aggressor, but she’d never had the courage to act without being acted upon.
But now, she had no choice in the matter. Those tiny prickling caresses made her breath catch and legs tremble. She couldn’t bear for him to stop. He kept moving back and forth against her breasts, taunting her with the movement. Her hips flexed again and again, pressing harder against his arousal. She was more ready than she had ever been. So close it hurt to breathe hard, and yet he hadn’t even touched her there.
When she thought she would explode or go mad, he slid down her body, trailing kisses to the waistband of her jeans. He sat up and unfastened the button and slipped the zipper down. She had enough awareness to raise her hips to assist him.
It was only when she felt his mouth on her thigh that she realized he’d taken off her panties along with her jeans. Before she could be embarrassed, he moved his hands between her legs and urged her to part them.
She willingly availed herself to him, anticipating the skillful touch of his fingers. Something warm fanned her most secret place. A breath of air. Her eyes opened. Before she could react, his fingers drew her open and he kissed her moist, quivering center.
A thrill of pleasure shot through her. Her protest died unspoken. She’d read about this, of course, had even taken Sam into her mouth once, but he’d pushed her away telling her it was dirty. She’d wondered what it would feel like to have a man touch her so intimately. A thousand questions filled her mind. What exactly was he doing with his tongue? Did he like the taste and scent of her? Could he feel her muscle contracting as he—
Her breath caught in her throat. It was as if he knew exactly how to touch, where to touch. She relaxed back on the bed and forgot her questions. Nothing mattered except the feel of him against her, loving her over and over. The rhythm increasing in cadence, matching the thunder of her heartbeat.
She whispered his name without thinking, then got embarrassed. He paused long enough to tell her to say it again. So she did. She spoke his name aloud, gasped her pleasure, rotated her hips mindlessly and surrendered to his masterful touch. The fire grew, burning hot and brighter. The flames didn’t frighten her—nothing frightened her. Travis was strong enough to save her. This night was a magical escape from her real world, from everything except the passion.
He moved faster against her, then shifted, slipping one finger into her woman’s place, moving it slowly. Once again she was shocked, but this time there was no room for questions, no room for anything but the sudden tension that locked her muscles and the explosion that shattered her into a million tiny pieces of perfect pleasure.
* * *
He held her tightly in his embrace, comforting her as the aftershocks rippled through her. The dull ache in her side told her that she’d used her stomach muscles too much. Who cares, she thought sleepily, and sighed.
“That sounded very contented,” he said, his voice rumbling against her hair.
“It is.” She snuggled closer, rubbing her cheek against the soft flannel of his shirt. His shirt? She opened her eyes. “You’re not even naked!”
“I know.” His slow, lazy smile belied the erection she could see pressing against the fly of his jeans.
“Travis?”
“Hush.” He brushed her hair out of her face and gently stroked her head. “Rest, darlin’. You’ve had a long and difficult day.”
It didn’t make any sense. If she’d taken too long with Sam, he had simply pleasured himself and left her unsatisfied. She’d always understood that a man’s needs were more uncontrollable than a woman’s, that a man had to find release or face a painful night. It had never been just for her.
“But you didn’t…do anything.”
“You’re too sore,” he said and reached down to touch her healing incision. “I saw you wince when you settled down. You can’t even drive yet. There’s no way your insides are ready for anything vigorous.”
She drew her eyebrows together. She couldn’t fault his argument. Just the thought of anything thrust inside of her was enough to make her side ache more. But this didn’t feel right. It wasn’t the way she’d planned it.
He moved his hand from her side to her breast and gently caressed the sensitized flesh. Her eyes drifted shut. It had felt so good when he’d loved her with his mouth. She couldn’t remember ever experiencing such exquisite sensations. In fact—
The idea came to her full-blown. She rose up on one shoulder, then collapsed back on the bed.
“What?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. Sam hadn’t wanted her to do that. But Travis wasn’t Sam, she reminded herself. Sam hadn’t done what Travis had done to her, either.
“Elizabeth?”
She exhaled deeply. “I was just wishing I’d had more lovers.”
“What?”
She laughed. “Just so I’d know how to handle this situation.”
He shook his head. “You’re handling it just fine. Trust me. Now lay down and relax.”
She shimmied closer, so that she could rest her chin on his chest. “I don’t think so.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” she said, innocently and sat up. She straddled his hips and leaned forward so she could start unbuttoning his shirt.
“What are you planning to do?” he asked.
“Just wait and see. If you don’t like it, I promise to stop.”
Chapter Ten (#ulink_5d15cd9a-de5d-5d68-a2e7-9cdf1d66aac3)
Travis warned himself not to blow it. Just because he was naked and she was sitting on his bare belly kissing his chest didn’t mean she was going to reciprocate what he’d done to her. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to have her taste him, touch him in that most intimate way. He told himself just having her in his bed, trusting him with her body, was enough. The hardness between his legs throbbed in time with his heartbeat and told him he was a liar.
Her hands were everywhere. His shoulders, chest, neck, arms. Soft skin brushing, stroking. Her small hot mouth pressed against his flat nipples, teasing him to frenzied awareness.
She slipped back and down, settling between his legs. He thought about telling her she didn’t have to do that. He could simply lie here a few minutes and explode from the need. He tried to think about other things, to get control, but every time he closed his eyes, he was back on top of her, touching and tasting her, loving her cries of pleasure, feeling her release against his lips. She’d been made to be pleasured by a man—by him.
Her hands rubbed up and down on his thighs. He looked at her. She nibbled on her lower lip as she studied him, obviously trying to figure something out.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said, cursing his mother for raising him right.
“Do what?”
Hell. “Whatever it is that has you confused.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulders. The movement caused her breasts to sway slightly. The sight of her hard peach-colored nipples bouncing in the air made his erection surge toward her.
“I want to, but I’m afraid you won’t like it.”
He tried to laugh. It came out a little strangled.
“I’ve never done this before. I can’t hurt you, can I? I don’t want to, you know, do anything awful.”
The muscles in his legs and arms started twitching. If it wasn’t for the small red incision, bright and angry against her pale flat belly, he’d roll her on her back and bury himself deep inside of her. That would end the debate and the growing pressure.
“I doubt you’d do anything awful,” he said, trying not to grit his teeth. “But we can stop now.”
She smiled. “Did you know the veins on your forehead are sticking out?”
“I’m not surprised,” he muttered, knowing he was being punished for some previous offense. It must have been pretty bad, whatever it was.
