A Reunion And A Ring (Proposals & Promises 1)

She’d admired his broad shoulders and solid chest when she’d changed his bandage at the cabin, but she hadn’t allowed herself to explore them thoroughly then. She did so now, sliding her hands beneath his shirt, spreading her palms against the hot skin and well-defined musculature. The bandage was gone now, as were the stitches. A thin smattering of chest hair tickled her fingers. His stomach muscles contracted sharply when she slowly followed that thinning line of hair downward toward the waistband of his pants.

He caught her hand. His voice was hoarse when he warned, “You’re playing with fire, Jen.”

“I’ve been cold for too long,” she whispered, her own tone stark.

“Jenny.” He pulled her into his arms, wrapping himself around her. She pressed even closer, soaking in his heat, her mouth joining his in a kiss that was less frantic now, more savoring, more tender. Her tongue stroked his rather than battling it. Her hands caressed him over his shirt, over the muscles that felt familiar yet new at the same time. She pushed away his shirt to provide her better access.

Focused solely on him, she hardly remembered moving from the living room to the bedroom. But she was keenly aware of every other detail. His hands beneath her dress. Hers tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. His mouth on her throat, her shoulder, her breasts. Her fingers tugging at his belt, his zipper, eager to remove the garments between them.

Somehow he remembered little caresses that made her gasp and squirm in pleasure against the snowy bedclothes. And he’d learned some new tricks that caused her to arch and cry out helplessly as her toes curled into the tangled sheets. He took his time, teasing her and pushing her right to the edge before drawing back, slowing down. She heard an almost feral growl escape her. Even as she shoved him onto his back to retaliate, she was a little startled that the sound had come from her throat.

She used her teeth, nipped at his ear, his chin, his throat, his chest. Her hand slipped down between them, grasping him, stroking him until he was the one arching and groaning and the husky laugh of satisfaction was hers. She laughed again when he deftly flipped their positions. She landed among the pillows with her hair tangled wildly around her damp face. One pillow fell over her, threatening to smother her.

Gavin shoved the pillows off the bed and to the floor with one idle sweep of his hand, his gaze focused intently on her face. “Now?”

“Yes, please.”

He chuckled and kissed her thoroughly. A condom appeared from somewhere, and he donned it swiftly, impatiently, while she held her breath in anticipation. When he returned to her, she welcomed him with open arms, lifted knees and eager lips. He gathered her to him and joined their bodies with one smooth, hard thrust, then stilled for a moment to allow them both time to process the moment.

Yes. This. I remember this. This...completeness.

Shushing the little voice in her head, she wrapped herself around Gavin and allowed herself to exist solely in the moment. No past to haunt her. No future to worry her. Only this man and this bed.

He began to move, slowly, steadily. Then, at her urging, faster, more forcefully. She realized that their hands were linked at either side of her head, fingers intertwined. They’d always held hands as they approached climax. How could it still be so familiar, so natural? Her heart pounded so hard it almost hurt; her breathing was raw and ragged. Her eyelids were heavy and she wanted to close them, but she needed more to keep them open, to look at Gavin’s tautly drawn face above hers. Meeting her eyes, he flashed a smile at her—and she came with a cry that was echoed mere moments later by his groan of release.

Only then did she close her eyes.

Chapter Nine

Exhausted, she slept. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she woke with a start, but she knew she’d been dreaming. She bit her lip as bits and pieces of the dream replayed in her conscious mind. She’d dreamed of her father. Of presents he’d bought her, giggles he’d tickled from her, hugs he’d shared with her. She’d seen her mother pacing, worrying. And she’d dreamed of the day her father hadn’t come home.

She was annoyed with her own subconscious. Seriously? Daddy dreams, now of all times? She would have liked to think even her sleeping mind wasn’t that clichéd.

Opening her eyes and turning her head on the pillow, she looked somberly at Gavin. He lay on his left side facing her, a corner of the sheet covering his hips. The rest of the sheet dangled over the side of the bed to puddle on the floor. Her bed was pretty much wrecked from their activities. She’d have to strip it down to the mattress to return it to its usual immaculate state. Not that the disarray seemed to bother Gavin. His eyes were closed, his breathing even. She wasn’t sure he was deeply asleep, but he was dozing.

The only light in t

he room came from the little lamp still burning on her nightstand. The illumination flooded softly over him, casting intriguing shadows across his tanned skin. Because he’d thrown the pillows on the floor earlier, he cradled his head on his bent arm. His hair tumbled appealingly around his face, the lamplight bringing out the gold streaks.

Her leisurely inspection paused at his right shoulder. She swallowed. Even with the stitches gone, the scar was still red and puckered. She looked away.

Reaching hastily for the white duvet crumpled on the floor by her side of the bed, she wrapped it around her body as she rose a little shakily to her feet. She caught a glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror and nearly stumbled. Who was that woman with the tangled hair, swollen mouth and wild eyes, her nude body wrapped in a coverlet? She was hardly recognizable even to herself.

She slipped into the bathroom and took her time washing up, brushing her hair and teeth, trying to put her thoughts in order along with her appearance. She donned a white robe she kept on a hook on the door and tied the sash tightly at her waist, making sure the front of the garment was securely closed. Only then did she feel somewhat prepared to face Gavin again.

He was awake when she walked back into the bedroom with her shoulders squared and her chin lifted in a show of confidence. He sat up against the headboard, his tanned skin an attractive contrast to all the white surrounding him, the sheet draped across his lap and thighs. His eyelids were still half-closed, but she knew he studied her with full alertness behind that lazily satisfied expression. “Everything okay?”

She tightened her belt again. “You should go, Gavin. It’s late.”

“Throwing me out?”

“I just need to be alone for a while.”

He thought about that for a moment, then nodded. Unselfconscious, he rolled out of the bed and gathered his clothes. She stood for a moment staring at her tousled bed, then turned abruptly and went into the other room. Rounding the granite bar, she reached into a white-painted cabinet for a water glass. She filled it and had thirstily emptied it by the time Gavin found her.

“Would you like a glass of water before you leave?” she asked without quite meeting his eyes.

“No, I’m good. I’d kind of hoped to stay a little longer, but I can see you need time to deal with this.” Spotting a pad and pen on the bar, he scribbled something on the top sheet. “Here are my numbers. Call me when you’re ready to talk.”